


heavy is the head that wears the crown

by ShatterinSeconds



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ambassador Lance, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Knight Lance (Voltron), Light Angst, M/M, Prince Keith (Voltron), mainly fluff, mild violence near the end of chap 2, very minor mention of romellura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterinSeconds/pseuds/ShatterinSeconds
Summary: Carding back his soaked hair to see better, Lance refuses to let their previous conversation die and pokes Keith in the chest. “If I can’t come to your funeral, I’m at least in your will, right? I need something to compensate for your stupidity.”“Yeah, upon my death, my kingdom is bequeathed to you,” Keith replies, almost too seriously for Lance’s taste.“I know you’re joking.”“Am I?” Keith raises an eyebrow, beginning to wade towards the shore.“Come on, Keith.”“Well I’m not planning on dying young so you’ll never find out anyways.”(or, Lance is a knight and Keith is a prince)
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 92
Kudos: 398





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's weird for me to realize that I started this fic back in March and now I'm just finishing it at the end of August; I thought it was gonna end up being my normal 6k word length and low and behold it's almost 13k lol.
> 
> This, as usual, is a self-indulgent fic as I've been craving some prince Keith/knight Lance content lately.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Keith gently slams Lance up against the wall when he returns from dinner in the evening. “You owe me.” His lips hover a millimeter away from Lance’s own. 

“Are you sure you just don’t need lessons on how to eat? You missed your mouth plenty of times, made quite a fool of yourself.” In front of a bunch of royalty too, all the people, including Queen Allura, that Keith will be working with on treaties and negotiations for the next month. Lance had never grinned so much in his life--well, excluding the moments when he is able to see Keith in person again after months of writing letters back and forth.

It was a struggle to hide his laughter behind his hand and dodge Keith’s swift quick to his shin as he scurried back.

“It was _your_ fault.”

Having whispered all sorts of innuendos and sweet dirty dreams into his ear every so often throughout the dinner party, Lance had the utmost pleasure of watching Keith’s composure crumble and then break over his words. Just one of the few things Lance loves to get away with as Keith’s personal guard. So Keith’s not entirely wrong with the allegations, but, “No concrete evidence, no proof.”

Lance gently lifts Keith’s crown off his head--a thin, golden circulate that is mostly obscured by his black hair--and places it on the bedside table. The crown rings out as it settles down on the dark wood; Keith doesn’t pay it any attention. His mouth is pulled into a tight line, not exactly amused but not pissed either.

Lance takes it as a win.

Keith purses his lips, gaze pointed. The hand on Lance’s chest, keeping him somewhat against the wall, begins to loosen. “Are you going to make good on the things you whispered in my ear?”

“Is that a royal decree?”

“More of a request, but if you’re not feeling up to it…” Keith walks back towards his bed and smiles. “I’ll be fine without you.”

“Don’t tease me.” Lance growls as he starts to strip off his clothes, almost tripping in his rush to reach Keith’s side. 

“And this one?” Keith asks as his finger traces a puckered scar on Lance’s bicep. Lance has half his face buried into the soft pillow, completely entranced by Keith’s gentle touch moving from scar to scar. His own hand rests on Keith’s inner thigh, absentmindedly brushing the temporary marks he created on Keith’s pale skin.

“From my first battle. An arrow grazed me,” Lance answers. After being promoted to Queen Allura’s personal guard, he rarely stepped out onto the battlefield, but the memories of when he was younger and only a foot soldier on the path to knighthood cling to his body and sometimes his nightmares. “Kinda lucky the person was such a poor shot.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Keith mutters and places a kiss on the old scar that never did fade.

There was a time, not that long ago in retrospect, when Keith had just begun his rebellion in Marmora and the other kingdoms, including Altea, were fighting back against Zarkon’s expansion. Those battles had been messy. Sometimes, especially during the rainy season when the only thing the sky did was downpour, Lance could barely see his opponents in front of him. All he remembers is the mud and blood coating his skin like a second layer. He thanks Allura everyday for seeing something in him to station him in the palace instead of on the battlefield--not that the war lasted too much longer after that, all thanks to Keith.

“You still haven’t told me about this.” Lance cups Keith’s cheek, thumb grazing over a red scar shooting up from his jawline. The prince had come back to Altea this summer sporting the new mark and Lance had tried not to fret too much, at least not publicly. It looks like it had been painful.

There are so many scars on the prince’s body, retelling the struggle he went through to reclaim his kingdom from Zarkon’s grasp, that Lance knows that this new one probably never phased Keith. Just another mark on his already marred body. 

He looks at Lance through his bangs. “Would you believe a training accident?” 

Lance sends him an unimpressed glare. “From the best swordsman I have ever known? Try again, sweetheart.”

Anticipation fills Lance’s body as they stare at each other, neither blinking and neither backing down. Eventually a sigh leaves Keith’s lips and he rolls onto his back, facing the ceiling now. “Don’t get angry.”

“You saying that is making me nervous.” Lance props himself up on his arm. 

“There was an assassination attempt,” Keith explains in a casual tone as if he is only talking about horseback riding, and it sends Lance’s head spinning. “But I dealt with them.” Keith turns back to face him, prepared for the worst with a neutral expression.

“Clearly, unless I’m having a conversation with your ghost.” Lance grits his teeth as his eyes flash in brief annoyance that just masks the hurt he feels. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? How long ago was it?”

“A couple months ago. I asked my council to keep it under wraps, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you would drop everything to come to Marmora. I was fine; I didn’t think there was any need to worry you.”

“They got close enough to do this to you.” Lance’s fingers are back on Keith’s scar. His touch is gentle as he caresses Keith’s skin, wanting to hold onto him and never let him go. Keith almost _died,_ and Lance would have never been able to see him again--he wouldn’t have even been there for the prince’s last moments. His fingers tremble where they rest on Keith’s cheek.

Grabbing Lance’s hand, Keith places it against his chest; the rhythm of his heartbeat passes through Lance’s fingertips. “I’m okay, Lance,” he speaks, soft but firm. “It was a fluke incident, the first one in almost two years. A record for me really.” 

“I’m going to tell Allura to station extra guards around you,” Lance says with no room for argument. “For my state of mind, if nothing else.”

“If it will stop you from worrying about me for my entire stay, then we can have every guard in the palace watch over me.”

Lance chuckles--though it is void of humor. “Don’t tempt me.”

Keith rolls his eyes before saying with as much sarcasm as possible, “Oh, I wouldn’t dare.”

Now Lance allows himself to crack a smile and snuggles up against Keith, nose finding the crook of Keith’s neck, breathing him in, and burying his hand in Keith’s hair. Holding Keith as close as he can for the rest of the night, Lance, surprisingly, finds himself slipping into an easy sleep, soothed by Keith’s fingers lethargically carding through his hair and feeling his strong heartbeat against his chest.

He’s alive; that’s what is most important.

Lance could spend all day in bed with Keith, but as the first light of dawn begins to break through the silk curtains, dusting his skin, he knows it is time to leave. He pries Keith’s arms off his waist, trying his hardest to ignore the soft whine that usually comes from a sleepy Keith, and starts gathering his clothing. With his shirt and trousers in his hand, Lance turns back to Keith’s disappointed expression, free hand on his hip as he says, “I have to go before I’m late to my post and get reprimanded.”

Keith’s expression easily turns playful, body stretching away the rest of its sleepiness, and he cocks his head in amusement. “You didn’t take your eyes off me the entire night so would you really get in trouble?” 

“Very funny, Keith,” Lance says as he pulls on his trousers and hops around like an idiot. “I can lose my job and then you will be void of the greatest thing that has ever happened to you.”

Keith doesn’t crack a smile at the joke, instead he sits up, eyes purposefully blank as he asks, “Are you saying, no one knows we’re courting?” Tilting his head in thought, his gaze softens for a moment. “I mean, we haven’t been even a little subtle if this is forbidden in your kingdom.”

“No, it’s not forbidden. Probably frowned upon though?” Lance phrases it as a question, having to ponder the thought himself. But it’s not like Lance didn’t run directly to Allura after they kissed for the first time with a great need to tell someone--so if she never forbade their entanglement back then, it’s probably okay. “I still have a job to do. I can’t slack just because I like kissing the person I’m protecting.” 

“You know I’m perfectly capable of killing any person who’s trying to assassinate me. I don’t need protection.” 

Lance leans down to peck his lips. “And that’s what I love about you even if you are a jerk for not _telling me_.” 

“You love me, huh?” Keith teasingly says as if he already didn’t know and pulls back an inch. “Is this a new development?”

“I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been coming for a long time,” Lance plays along, resting on the edge of the bed as he laces up his boots. 

Keith smirks as his dark eyes flicker over Lance’s face. “And here I thought you’d still be denying that you even _like_ me.”

“That Lance was young and stupid; we do not mention him,” he ardently proclaims with a shake of his head.

“He had some charm. Kept me on my toes.”

“Hmm, I know you’re trying to distract me with your version of a compliment; it’s not going to work, love.” Lance smiles, pressing another quick kiss on Keith’s lips, his hand resting under Keith’s chin. “You’ll be late for your _long_ day of meetings if you don’t get up too.”

Keith unceremoniously flops back onto the large bed with a groan and rubs the heels of his hands over his face. “Just put me out of my misery, please.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Lance mocks as he stands and bows, now fully dressed. He just has to belt his discarded sword to his waist. “That is one request I can not grant.”

“Then why do I keep you around?” Keith cracks open one eye, staring at Lance upside down. A cute frown cuts across his pretty face.

Lance arches over Keith, grin bright. “For my good looks and sunny personality, obviously. There needs to be something to offset your grumpy face and dark aura.”

“Come here,” Keith says with grabby hands to entice Lance to lean forward more. Lance obliges and Keith’s hands pull him into a third kiss at a very awkward, but enjoyable, angle. “I love you too.”

* * *

When Lance steps inside the council chamber, his eyes immediately latch onto Keith, who’s talking with Allura. His hands are clasped behind his back, and though they are in a rather professional setting, with some delegates still mulling around the room, Keith looks rather relaxed. Smiling animatedly at Allura, he nods his head at something she says.

Lance arches an eyebrow at the scene before him. They are too far away to hear what they converse about and Lance never managed to master the art of lip reading. 

He doesn’t think he has ever seen Keith willingly engage anyone in conversation, but there’s a first for everything. Lance is quite glad that Keith has finally found a friend in the Queen. They have more in common than one would think at first glance. 

Most of the personal guards, including Lance, were allowed to step out during the meeting, able to catch some free time as the palace guards watched over their charges. Lance had remained close by though, maybe not in the same room but close enough that if anything went wrong, he’d be there in less than a minute. 

Their conversation from the early morning hours has not left Lance’s mind, and for the first time, he wonders just how many assassination attempts Keith has had to deal with since he was sixteen. Zarkon’s supporters have never been one to sit quietly, even if their numbers dwindle every year. The pessimistic part of him would bet money that it is over ten and will continue to grow.

Lance is about to make his presence known, seeing Keith and Allura’s conversation begin to wind down as they say their goodbyes, but a delegate beats him to it. They tap Keith’s shoulder to draw him into another one-on-one conversation.

“You know Marmora can not back down on that,” Lance hears Keith plainly tell the representative from Daibazaal when he passes the prince on his way towards Allura. As much as Lance would love to watch that minor debate unfold--nothing is more attractive than seeing Keith in action--his footsteps lead him right to Allura’s side.

“What do you want?” Allura asks without any formal pleasantries as she crosses her arms, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow. Her long hair has been styled into an elaborate braided bun that only has her appearing more intimidating and the skirts of her dress rustle whenever she moves the slightest inch, which she must hate.

Quick to bow, Lance plasters on his best innocent expression. “Wow, no more ‘how are you doing, Lance’? I’m a little offended, but to answer your unspoken question, I am perfectly happy.”

She rolls her eyes but a pleasant smile rests on her lips. “I’m glad you’re doing well. Now, what do you want?”

As Lance crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze briefly finds the back of Keith’s head, double checking that the prince is still thoroughly occupied elsewhere, then his eyes snap back to the queen. “What was Keith talking to you about?”

“ _Prince_ Keith and I had a private matter to discuss.” Allura’s eyes land on his neck, and Lance slaps his hand there to cover what he knows is a hickey that isn’t quite hidden by his uniform. Keith just had to kiss him right near his jawline. At Lance’s startled reaction, Allura’s mouth quirks in amusement. “But I'm sure he will tell you all about it at some point.”

Lowering his hand, Lance playfully scowls at her. “Secret royalty cult business, I get it, that's all you had to say.” Though Lance, being one of the more trusted knights, has an extensive knowledge of the inner workings of the kingdom than most usually do in his position. He’s been Allura’s personal guard for what seems like forever now, except, of course, when he’s stationed with Keith. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” Allura continues, misunderstanding his dry tone, “In fact, I think you’ll like it quite a lot.” 

Curiosity piqued for a moment, Lance nods at the new information. So Keith is up to something then; Lance’s lips twitch in amusement. But before his thoughts can wander down the road of possibilities, he sets his mind on the right track and schools his features. “I actually have another purpose for coming over here.”

“Oh?”

“I suggest you station a couple more guards to watch over Keith, mainly at night or when I’m off duty.”

Allura frowns in worry, expression becoming serious. “Is there a problem?”

Lance scowls for real this time. “There was apparently an assassination attempt a few months ago. He of course doesn’t care but--”

“Adding more security won’t be a problem. We watch out for our allies here,” Allura replies without an ounce of hesitancy. Releasing an internal sigh of relief, Lance is glad Keith has someone else looking out for his well being as well, since the prince isn’t bothered to do so himself. Allura’s eyes suddenly dart to the side of Lance as she acknowledges someone else in the room, probably Coran, her advisor. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have more ‘royalty cult’ business to attend to.”

“Of course.” By the time he lifts from his bow, Allura has already disappeared. But Lance isn’t left alone for too long; he soon feels a familiar presence walk up to him and an arm slips through his. He holds on tight.

They begin to walk out of the council chamber doors, neither having a destination in mind though there is only a short recess until the next meeting begins. It amazes Lance sometimes how people with all the power can be so completely stubborn in compromising. 

“What did you do?” Keith chuckles, the sound very close to Lance’s ear.

Turning his head slightly, Lance first notices the amusement in Keith’s eyes and then registers his accusing question. “Why are you assuming _I_ did something wrong?”

“Queen Allura had on her usual bemused expression when you're trying to talk your way out of something.”

“That only happened once with the roses and I blamed it all on you anyways.” Lance side eyes the prince with a look but Keith never fractures.

Bumping his shoulder, Keith sends him a smile instead. “Thank the gods she didn't believe that.”

* * *

There are some days when Keith is completely free from royal duties and Lance makes sure to take great advantage of them. And sure, maybe it’s Lance’s job to follow Keith around, but sometimes you have to mix it up, keep things fresh. Lance has been planning this brief excursion since Allura announced the date of this current biannual meeting between all the kingdoms months ago. Nothing is going to stop him from seeing it through--assassins are very _un_ welcomed to try.

“Where are you taking me?” Keith finally asks him as they travel along a semi well-worn path deeper into the forest.

“The best spot to bathe, swim, relax.” Lance ticks off all three things on his fingers. “Anything really.”

“Isn't your kingdom known for _exceptionally large_ heated baths? Why are we venturing into the wild?” Keith grumbles, something that surprises Lance for a moment. Even after all these years, he never thought Keith was one to appreciate the finer things in life. 

“Clearly someone has been pampered too much here.” Lance smirks as he turns his head to look over his shoulder. “Tap into that adventurer spirit that always gets you into trouble, alright? Besides, the waterfall is great for back massages.”

This intrigues Keith enough, if his quickened pace is anything to go by--though Lance is not spared from the quick glare and mumble of, “I don’t _always_ get into trouble.”

It has Lance smiling all the way to their destination.

A pool of water sits before them, a small waterfall rushing down from the rock formation. In the sunlight, the pool is almost crystal clear, dazzling in its beauty. The summer heat has already caused beads of sweat to pepper Lance’s skin--the walk had been long but worth it; he hopes Keith thinks so too. 

In a flash, Lance begins to undress. Shirt first, tossed a little ways away from the shore, and his trousers soon follow, adding to the pile. The sun warms his bare skin and he stretches his arms above his head to soak it all in.

He almost forgets he has an audience.

Almost. 

“So this is a fully naked thing?” Keith says, eyes, a hungry light to them, roaming Lance’s body. 

“Unless you regularly bathe in your clothes then yes,” Lance teases, walking closer to the fully clothed prince. A complete shame, really. “I know you must be used to servants doing everything for you, so if you need help undressing…” Lance’s hands find a home on Keith’s waist and he plays with the waistband of his trousers. 

Keith smirks, leaning in ever so close to whisper, “I may have let you but now you’ve annoyed me.” He pulls back suddenly, practically ripping away from Lance’s touch. “You can just _watch_.”

He tugs on the ties of his drawstring shirt and shucks it over his head. It’s not that Keith does anything fancy while he strips, but every time an article of clothing comes off, the heat in Lance’s body continues to grow. Keith is a handsome man taking off his clothes, so really, what did Lance expect? All he knows is that if he doesn’t get into the cold water soon, they’re going to be spending this entire day on the bank-side.

Keith takes the pins out of his hair for it to all come tumbling down. Even though he shakes it out slightly, it maintains a wavy look, having been kept up for too long. Lance is dying to run his hands through it. 

Instead, he says, “Are you done now? Is it all out of your system?”

“Was it too much for you?” Keith smirks, walking closer to Lance, who pointedly keeps his gaze on Keith’s face and not any lower. Keith pats his cheek. “Poor Lance.”

Maybe there’s a small part of Lance that would love to shove him into the water right now, but he’s a gentleman, a knight, and one of them needs to be the grown-up. He blows a raspberry instead. And then quickly follows Keith to the sparkling pool.

Lance’s skin instantly prickles in protest at the chilling water as he sinks into the pool, but it combats the summer heat. The mist from the small waterfall welcomingly patters his face. Apparently immune to anything, Keith has already dived all the way under, swimming to the rock wall with a purpose. 

The drumming of the waterfall almost drowns out Lance’s words.

“Don't you dare jump off the rocks,” Lance scolds as he helplessly watches Keith climb higher and higher on the rocks, determination set on his face.

Keith only turns back to face Lance when he reaches a relatively flat portion to safely stand on and sticks out his tongue. “You're not the boss of me.”

“Yeah I _am_ when it concerns your safety.”

But Keith’s adventurer’s spirit has finally kicked in and he ignores Lance as he climbs a few levels higher until he reaches the top.

“If you slip and die, I'm not coming to your funeral,” Lance calls out to Keith again. Crossing his arms, he stands in the water, which comes up to his elbows. Little ripples lap against his skin. The sun is behind Keith, hitting Lance directly in the eyes, but it creates a perfect golden outline around Keith’s bare body.

Keith tilts his head. “Who said you were even invited?”

Lance’s retort is silenced by the impending wave Keith creates when he jumps back into the water; it drenches him entirely. A shiver cascades through his body. He sputters for a moment, barely retaining his bearings to realize Keith has not popped up out of the water yet even though it is relatively calm now. He panics only to feel a sharp tug on his leg. 

Getting unexpectedly dragged underwater is as unpleasant as it sounds.

Managing to keep his mouth closed, he just misses swallowing a bucket full of water. The surface closes above him and his eyes pop open in the relatively clear water to see Keith’s hand attached to his ankle and a cheshire grin spread across his face like wildfire. Keith’s long black hair floats around his head as they stay suspended under the water--he looks like a siren that sailors always weave frightful tales about.

If Lance saw Keith out in the wide, open ocean, he would without a doubt be willing to risk drowning while trying to reach him.

But the lack of air finally catches up to the both of them. Keith pushes up first, breaking through the surface with a quick pump of his legs, and Lance follows close behind. He shakes his head to get the water out his eyes only for his first sight to be Keith completely encompassed by his hair plastered to his face.

“You look like a drowned rat, Your Highness.” Lance helpfully brushes back Keith’s long bangs for him, revealing an unamused gaze. 

“And you, _Sir McClain_ , look like a wet mop.”

Carding back his hair to see better--and to negate the mop comment--Lance refuses to let their previous conversation die and pokes Keith in the chest. “If I can’t come to your funeral, I’m _at least_ in your will, right? I need something to compensate for your stupidity.”

“Yeah, upon my death, my kingdom is bequeathed to you,” Keith replies, almost too seriously for Lance’s taste.

“I know you’re joking.”

“Am I?” Keith raises an eyebrow, beginning to wade towards the shore.

“Come on, Keith.”

“Well I’m not planning on dying young so you’ll never find out anyways.”

 _You might,_ is all Lance can think as he purses his lips but ultimately drops the subject. Honestly, sometimes he can never tell with Keith’s jokes--his deadpan is too good.

As Keith steps out of the water, Lance watches thin streams glide down his bare back and over the curve of his ass. Keith wrings out his long hair before tying it into a high ponytail. The sun highlights the sharp lines of his body, coloring him gold again, and drying droplets that sparkle on his skin. 

“Paint a portrait, it will last longer,” Keith breaks the silence as he drops his hands to his sides, looking at Lance over his shoulder. That smug smirk should be illegal. 

“I lost the upper hand when you gained the courage to flirt back,” Lance remarks with pink cheeks, lowering part of his face into the water again to cool them off. 

“Your Highness,” they hear and Keith turns in the direction of the voice. Lance tenses at the sudden intrusion, ready to leap from the water and grab his discarded sword. He only relaxes when he realizes it is a servant running towards them, face flushed from the exercise. As soon as they are a few feet away from Keith, they bow deeply.

Lance is quite impressed that the servant does not even blink at Keith’s nakedness. In all honesty, it is taking Lance’s entire will to not drag Keith back to his bedroom--it’s not like the prince has anything important to do anyways.

“You’re needed in the council room immediately,” the servant speaks, still taking deep breaths. 

Ok, so maybe Keith is needed today.

“Thank you; please let Queen Allura know I’ll be there shortly.”

The servant nods and gives one last bow before scampering off again. Alone now, Keith starts to gather his clothes, dressing in a rather quick fashion that has Lance playfully frowning. His shirt clings to his body, not having the time nor patience to dry off first. Lance already spots a growing spot on the material where his wet hair rests against his back. 

When Keith turns around, Lance comments on the obvious. “Free time’s over, huh?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well, I’ll still be here if the meeting is resolved quickly.” Lance begins to float on his back, closing his eyes to bask in the summer day, though after a minute he realizes Keith hasn’t moved an inch. Cracking open his eyes again, he finds Keith staring at him. 

“You know it’s your job to escort me, right?” Keith says as he crosses his arms and arches an eyebrow at Lance.

Reddening in embarrassment for a moment, Lance quickly stands, wading his way towards shore. The current almost fights him and sticks to him as he climbs out. He practically whines at the loss of such a perfect day. “You act like such royalty sometimes, honestly.”

Keith just laughs at his misery and Lance can’t help but beam at the sound--that right there makes up for everything.

* * *

Lance brings three things to their date: himself, a bouquet of wild juniberry flowers, and his sword.

Silently opening the door to Keith’s room, giving the guards posted outside a nod in gratitude, he steps into the room to immediately see a soft glow coming from the far end. A quiet night breeze rustles through Lance’s hair from the open balcony doors. There’s a round table set up under the stars and the quarter moon, two plates on either side, wine glasses already filled. 

By the time Lance walks up, Keith finishes lighting the last candle on the small candelabra. The tiny flames cover the prince’s face in orange and shadows, color dancing in his hair. “Am I early?” Lance asks with a grin as he lightly knocks on the open glass door. He leans his sword against one of the panes and holds out the bundle of flowers.

Keith doesn’t hide his smile when he readily takes them from Lance’s hand. The flowers are immediately pressed under his nose as he visibly breathes deep, and Lance is almost surprised that there isn’t a bit of pollen dust left on Keith’s nose in the aftermath. “Thank you,” he says, and then adds, “You’re perfectly on time.”

Neither of them bothered to dress up. Instead, Keith stands before him in a loose shirt and brown trousers. The pink petals of the juniberries stand out against the white fabric of his shirt, and Keith pads across his room with bare feet to find a suitable cup to place them in. He looks lovely. Cozy.

When Keith returns, Lance drags him into a long overdue kiss, his hand weaving into Keith’s hair as Keith’s arms automatically wrap around his waist. Warmth swells within Lance’s chest. 

“Hi,” Keith whispers as he barely pulls back an inch.

Lance grins. “Hi.”

“Our dinner’s going to go cold,” Keith says when neither of them move, still breathing each other in, despite seeing each other only a few hours ago. But over the last few days, they have not gotten in much free time that has lasted longer than a few minutes or passing out in each other’s arms right as their bodies hit the bed, exhaustion taking its toll. 

Lance misses him.

“Mm, but I’m quite happy here.” His fingers dance under Keith’s baggy shirt, finding that wonderfully warm patch of skin to touch. Lance is about to lean in again, wanting to be selfish with all the physical contact he can get, wanting to cure his withdrawal, when his body rumbles.

Keith laughs; the sound explodes right next to Lance’s ear and he almost melts. “Your stomach says otherwise.”

“I can’t believe it betrayed me.”

Grasping his hand, Keith leads him to the table.

Without fail, the castle chef’s provided a wonderfully extravagant meal. All sorts of side dishes and sauces are scattered around the table--which is almost too small to hold everything--and a perfect cut of venison rests in both of their plates. It’s clearly too much food for both of them--but the guards outside will definitely appreciate the leftovers. It’s the least Lance can do since they are covering his shift for the evening. 

“What would you do if our kingdoms went to war?” Lance asks after a bite of venison, the rich, earthy texture resting on his tongue. His eyes glimmer in amusement when Keith’s head lifts in sudden confusion.

“Don’t be absurd, Lance. Queen Allura and I’s relations have never been stronger.”

Lance waves a fork at him while he chews. “Hypothetical.” 

“Oh, I see.” Keith doesn’t take too long to think about it. In fact, he responds so quickly that it’s like Lance is quizzing the prince on his worst case-scenario contingency plan that has been drilled into his head. “I guess I would kidnap you in the middle of the night so we can run away together to some distant kingdom no one has ever heard of. We’d build a cottage near the sea and live out the rest of our days with the common folk.”

“Aw, you’d leave your kingdom behind for me? How romantic.” Lance bats his eyes as he places his chin in his palm. “I’ve always wanted to see the sea.”

“You know, Marmora does share one of her borders with the ocean.”

Lance smirks a little, huffing as he eyes Keith. “Trying to steal me away already? Keep talking, you’re doing a good job.”

Keith sends him a knowing, rather suspicious looking, smile that Lance can’t figure out. It has him pausing before he takes another bite, cocking his head to try to see the full picture that is Keith. But the prince has already dropped his gaze back to his meal and nothing comes of Lance’s study except frustration. It has him pouting through the next few minutes of comfortable silence. It doesn’t take long for that to be interrupted though, but luckily, it’s not from an outside party.

Keith places his utensils down, too close to the plate that the action clangs out into the night air. The sharp ring berates Lance’s ears as they both wince--even one of the guards walking the grounds below lifts their head at the noise. “Does it make me a bad person to say sometimes I wish I was never the one to defeat Zarkon? To wish I was never a prince?”

It takes a second for Lance to understand the length of Keith’s question. He forgoes the want to diffuse Keith’s worries with humor and goes straight for the honest answer. Keith usually prefers that anyways--no fluff, just hard truth. “Well, if that was true, we would never have met, so I think that is a very large con. But no, I don’t think it makes you a bad person. Everyone has thought about having a different life.”

While Lance answers, Keith rises from his seat, determinedly walking toward him, apparently fed up with the table space between them. The chair is large enough for Keith to straddle him, though not as an invitation to start any sort of explicit activity, but simply to rest on Lance’s lap and enjoy the close contact. Lance’s hands find Keith’s waist to hold him steady.

“Even you?” Keith wonders in a whisper, curiosity flashing in his gaze, as he drapes his arms over Lance’s shoulders. He plays with Lance’s short hair, carding through it on occasion. Lance isn’t ashamed to admit that he angles his head to chase after Keith’s hands.

“I always had a fantasy of captaining my own ship, sailing across the world and trading with kingdoms.”

Lance’s mother’s family had originally been merchants on the wide open sea before one of her long dead relatives got swept off their feet by someone from Altea. But that had been many generations ago--Lance has never even seen the ocean as Altea remains a landlocked kingdom with a mountain range acting as one of her borders and a large river as their main outlet to the ocean.

Yet something in his blood has always called him to the sea, even to just wade in the water, and he indulged those inner passions with elaborate fantasies. Sometimes, they were the only thing that kept him sane throughout the war, that chance of escape.

“We still would have met each other then,” Keith says with utter confidence that has Lance narrowing his brow in thought.

“What makes you so sure?”

“That was my secret fantasy as well,” Keith readily shares with a shy smile. “Maybe not the interacting with people part, but the freedom of having your own ship to take you anywhere. To have no responsibilities.”

“I would have hired you as my first mate,” Lance states matter of fact, tugging lightly on a lock of Keith’s hair that has fallen over his shoulder.

“Who says you wouldn’t be mine?”

“Because in _my_ fantasy, I get to order you around all the time. None of this, ‘You need to escort me, Lance; it’s literally your job, Lance’ crap I get now.” Lance speaks in a high pitched tone when doing a bad impression of Keith. He drops his hand from Keith’s hair to poke him in the chest.

Rather than taking the bait, Keith rolls his eyes with an amused chuckle. “And what would’ve been your first order, Captain McClain?”

Lance taps his chin in brief thought, his mind flickering through the hundreds of things he’d _love_ to see Keith do, mostly associated with being in bed. But he does have some mercy for him. “For you to stay by my side no matter what. And maybe also to swab the deck; depends on how petty I’m feeling.”

Keith hums as he leans forward. “It’s a good thing I’m already planning on following one of those orders.”

Lance tucks that loose lock of hair behind Keith’s ear, fingers brushing across his warm skin. “See, you’d make the best first mate.”

* * *

The council is in recess for the time being, and for their free hour or so, they wander Allura’s private garden. The sun is high in the sky, causing a light layer of sweat to bead up on Lance’s skin underneath his uniform. He desperately wants to take off his leather chest piece but can’t when he is on duty. Keith doesn’t fare much better as he pushes up the long sleeves of his tunic for his skin to breathe--his hair is braided down his back today, Lance’s handiwork, but now Lance realizes it probably would have been better to style it up off his neck.

Lance almost breathes a sigh of relief when they pass under the shade from a large tree, their pace slowing. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Keith announces in the quiet air around them. A few gnats buzz around their head and Lance manages to swat them away.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Your Highness,” Lance replies on impulse as he wacks at a fly now. 

The gardens were clearly not the best choice, but they couldn’t have left the castle in case Keith was needed on short notice, which he always seems to be. So here they walk in extensive heat, somehow keeping up with a conversation instead of melting, and the shade of the tree is not going to provide much cover for long. At least all the various flowers seem to be enjoying the abundance of sunlight.

Keith nearly drives him off the stone pathway with a bump to his shoulder as payback for Lance’s comment. By the time Lance’s eyes land on the prince, he’s schooled his features to appear innocent. But revenge falls far away from Lance’s mind when Keith continues. “Queen Allura suggests that I should take an Altean diplomat back with me to facilitate the new trade agreement, as well as any future policies, and to also learn more about our culture.”

“Oh?” Lance, intrigued now, asks, “Do you have someone in mind?”

“You.”

Lance stops short. His boots clap against the stone, causing Keith to jerk to a halt a few steps ahead as well. “I’m a knight, Keith.”

“And?” Keith challenges as he swings around, “You’ve helped me draft a few proposals in the past, probably stopped a few unnecessary wars by cutting through my blunt writing.” Lance chuckles. “And I bet you know a lot about the fine inner workings of Altea by being Queen Allura’s personal guard for the last five years. You’re also the best person suited to handle me.”

“Is that so?” Lance’s lips twitch upwards at the praise.

“Queen Allura may have also been the one who put your name forward first. I’ve agreed, so it’s up to you now.” Keith’s gaze softens, words quiet as he ends his proposal with, “I will not be hurt if you turn down the offer. I know this is your home and I have no right to ask you to leave it.”

Lance is silent a moment before he asks, “What are the job perks?”

At his question, the worried tension in Keith’s shoulders drains a little and they begin to walk again. “Well, I heard it’s higher pay.”

“Mhmm.”

“Better accommodations than the barracks.”

“How nice. Do you have actual feather mattresses in Marmora?” Lance questions with a side smile as he turns his gaze back toward Keith.

“And we’ll have much more time together,” Keith soldiers on to finish his list. 

Lance’s grin widens, and while his tone is playful, he is completely serious when he says, “Obviously, that’s the most important part of it all.”

Stepping off the path for a brief moment, Keith picks a rose from a bush and holds it out to Lance, moving to stand in front him instead of by his side. “Think about it, ok? I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think you could handle it. You’d be great.”

Accepting it, Lance twirls the flower between his fingers while making sure to avoid the thorns. He stares at the multiple layers of petals, counting each one. “It’s a very enticing offer.”

And it truly is, but for his whole life, Lance has trained to be a knight, and to switch just like that? Not to mention his family that he would be leaving behind, though he knows they would be proud and encourage him to go. Plus, it’s not like Marmora is on the other side of the world either, a week’s ride at most in a carriage and less on horseback if you push yourself.

Being an ambassador would present a new challenge, an exciting one, something he can experience with Keith by his side--where as knighthood has been rather stable ever since he was granted a position at Allura’s side. Even she seems to know he should venture out into the world. 

It’s a _very_ enticing offer.

Keith’s voice cuts effortlessly through his rapidly paced thoughts. “Since it’s such short notice, the offer will still stand even after I return so you have some extra time before I or Queen Allura need an answer.”

“Right,” Lance mutters, mood plummeting so quickly because he _forgot._ He almost crushes the rose stem in his hand, a few thorns lightly pricking his skin. “You’re leaving.”

“Two days.”

Lance sucks in a sharp, maybe slightly panicked, breath--but really, what did he think? That this time they would have infinite days together, no matter what the calendar says? “And then it will be six more months, unless Allura decides to travel?”

Keith reaches up to cup Lance’s face. “You know I hate leaving you behind.”

“And I hate watching you go.” Lance buries his face in the crook of Keith’s neck as he drags the prince into a long hug. There’s a little ‘oomph’ of surprise but Keith quickly settles against Lance’s body. Will Keith even be safe in his kingdom? Or will Lance wake up one day to see a somber expression on Allura’s face as devastating news spills from her lips? “I don’t want you to go,” Lance mumbles, though they both know that is a wish that is impossible to be granted.

His hands tighten one last time, wrinkling Keith’s vest, before he pulls away. Keith takes Lance’s hands in his own before they lose all physical contact completely. Keith’s mouth is pressed into a determined line when he says, 

“There’s another option, if you _are_ interested in coming to Marmora but want to remain a knight… something I’ve been wanting to ask you. Not that this is the most romantic set--”

“I should have known not to trust you two near my garden,” Allura calls out to them, eyeing the rose in Lance’s hand. She interrupts Keith so unexpectedly that his mouth snaps closed and his hands fall from Lance’s. Their loss is felt immediately. 

Trapped in an unfinished conversation haze, Lance misses Keith placating Allura, too busy trying to repeat the last minute in his head to see if he can piece together what Keith was about to say. Lance never does get to hear the end of Keith’s sentence that day; the prince doesn’t volunteer to finish it either.

* * *

On the last night of Keith’s visit, Altea holds a ball to thank all the delegates for attending the gathering. Lance twirls Allura as they slide across the dance floor. She always saves her first dance for him, much to the annoyance of others at the ball and Lance can’t help but feel a little smug that even after all these years she will stick to their tradition.

As the music tapers off to signal the end of the song, a figure taps Allura on the shoulder, asking, “May I cut in, Your Highness?” A pleased smile graces Lance’s features when he sees Keith, who bows respectfully to Allura as he steals her dance partner.

“Of course; have fun, Prince Keith.” The crowd parts for the queen as she leaves them be, easily finding another dance partner.

Then the prince turns to him, bowing to him as well which Lance automatically mirrors the gesture. Lance catches sight of a familiar wolf pendant resting on Keith’s collarbone, the chain shortened so it doesn’t whip around while dancing. Unlike his hair which falls down his back in gentle waves instead of in some fancy up-do. And his crown nestled on his head as well.

A dark maroon cloak rests on his shoulders with three thin golden chains strung across his chest to keep it in place; a black tunic resides underneath, causing the eye to be further drawn to the golden embellishments on his body. And Keith’s knee-high boots do not disguise his movements on the hardwood floor.

“I should have known you’d show up fashionably late,” Lance remarks after his eyes take in the prince’s more elegant look. Keith, having had some last minute business to take care of, had told Lance to go ahead without him--it honestly felt awkward walking to the ballroom alone; Lance had kept glancing back as if he forgot something. 

“I didn’t think you had them anymore,” Keith says, ignoring Lance’s teasing jab, as he fiddles with one of Lance’s blue crystal earrings.

“Of course I kept them; it’s the first thing you got me.” Lance touches the other one out of reflex; the polished surface swings against his fingers. “I just don’t have many opportunities to wear them.”

“Which is a shame. You look beautiful.” That blunt honesty of his always strikes Lance right in his core.

“You sure know how to woo a knight, Your Highness.” Blush stains his cheeks as he ducks his head for a moment to regain his bearings. When he looks at Keith again, those dark eyes are locked onto him.

“I’ve had some practice,” Keith replies with a quiet smirk.

Moving a step closer, Keith’s right hand rests on Lance’s back as Lance takes a hold of his left. The music swells when they start to dance. There had been a time where Keith would have absolutely refused to dance with Lance--one reason being when Keith first arrived three years ago they were too antagonistic with each other, and the second reason, that Lance discovered later, the prince simply never learned to dance.

Too busy training to defeat a tyrant while on the run and then too busy trying to rebuild a kingdom left little time for a proper royal upbringing. But when Keith realized dancing was no different from sparring with Lance, with the need to interpret your partner’s movements on the fly, his feet quickly found the rhythm. Though, Lance likes to believe he was just that good of a teacher.

When the music calls for it, Lance breaks from Keith’s hold as he’s twirled around the section of the floor they claimed before returning to Keith’s arms. His lips lazily brush against Keith’s cheek, catching the raised edges of his scar, as he grins.

“I wanted to ask you something yesterday...” Keith trails off long enough for Lance to step in.

“Yeah, we never did get to finish our conversation.”

Taking such a deep breath that even Lance feels it, Keith speaks with eyes that never fall from Lance’s face and hands that grip Lance close to his body. Lance has no choice but to direct his entire attention on Keith’s words, not that he would rather do anything else. “If you don’t want to be a diplomat, but still want to come to Marmora with me, you could do so… as my betrothed.”

“Wha-- _Keith_.” Lance finds he can’t say anything else but the prince’s name, completely lost for words.

No one around them seems to have noticed that they stopped dancing. 

They step out of their closed position as Keith holds out an old signet ring between them. Two blades rest across each other and a small purple gem resides in each hilt. The Marmoran coat of arms. The ring is gold, or it was however many years ago it was crafted, but now it’s tarnished from constantly being worn; it looks better like this. It looks _loved_.

Lance’s gaze quickly flickers from Keith’s face to his ring and back again while trying to understand what has been presented to him. “A royal family heirloom, huh? You must be serious.”

“I’m always serious.”

Lance’s voice is thick when he speaks again and not very convincing. “But princes don’t marry knights.” 

“Yeah? Tell me where that law is,” Keith casually challenges him. “Because I’m a prince and I’d love to marry the knight I’ve fallen in love with. But does he want to?” A little quieter now, Keith finishes with, “It’s okay if you want to say no.”

“If you think I’m going to say no, then you do not know me as well as you think. But--” Lance bites his lower lip, gaze cast more towards the ground than on Keith’s face, before he says “--is both an option? Ambassador and fiancé?”

“Gods, yes, of course.” Keith nods enthusiastically, eyes alight with delight, lips twisting into a smile, “I’d like nothing more.”

Lance’s fingers slip through Keith’s bangs, pushing them off his forehead for a moment to see his face unobscured. His fingers begin to trail down Keith’s face, tracing his scar, and finally Lance officially answers him. “Keith, I’d _absolutely_ love to marry you.”

Keith slides the ring onto Lance’s finger and Lance threads his fingers with Keith’s, the ring adding a new weight to his hand but he has practically gotten used to it already. His soul blossoms with unbridled joy and never stops when Keith smiles at him and Lance realizes he’ll be able to witness that sight for the rest of his life.

Lance wants nothing more than to stay right here in this moment--with Keith’s warm lips pressed against his and the sensation of Keith’s heart beating against his chest as he’s drawn into a kiss.

Breaking apart, Keith whispers in Lance’s ear as they begin to sway together again on the ballroom floor. “I love you.”

Lance nuzzles his face into Keith’s hair, placing a kiss on his head. “Love you more.”

“Hm, I don’t think that’s possible,” Keith muses, utterly content.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Lance says with a grin and he holds Keith close throughout the rest of the dance and long after.

* * *

**Three years ago**

* * *

“Your Highness,” Lance says as he bows to the Prince of Marmora. The man’s body is adorned with the refinements one would associate with royalty. A thin golden circulate rests on his head, partially pushing back his bangs to reveal cutting gray-violet eyes. _Pretty_ , had been Lance’s first thought upon seeing the prince. Rising from his bow, Lance rests his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I’ve been stationed as your personal guard for the duration of your stay.”

The prince looks nothing like how the stories describe him. Lance can’t see the boy ruler who rose up at age sixteen to take back his kingdom from Zarkon’s reign, the boy who practically wrote his own heroic tales as they had spread like wildfire across the various kingdoms. 

The twenty-one year old man standing in front of Lance appears as nothing more than a sullen, entitled prince. With unfairly handsome features and an air about him. If Lance is being honest, he is quite disappointed. But he should have realized by now that all stories end up being tall tales one way or another.

The prince’s gaze unashamedly rakes over Lance’s figure. “I do not need you.”

Lance’s skin prickles at the unsubtle scrutiny. Those eyes force him to stand up straighter, throw his shoulders back slightly--he is taller than the warrior prince after all, albeit only by two inches, and that makes him feel a little better. Jaw locking, Lance’s teeth already begin to grind together. _Be nice,_ he reminds himself. “I apologize, but it is custom and I’m not about to ignore my soon-to-be-Queen’s orders just to please your grumpy face.”

Well, that didn’t last long.

“I specifically left my own guard at home so I didn’t have a shadow following my every move.”

A grimace rests on Lance’s features. He wouldn’t be here right now if the prince had just followed proper protocols. Now, instead of tending to Princess Allura as her personal guard, Lance has to watch the obnoxious prince throughout the next month. And if this is how the prince’s first interaction with a person from Altea is playing out, not only will it be a long thirty days for the both of them, but the prince probably won’t make an ally out of Allura anytime soon. 

It will be a month of Lance’s life that he will never get back.

“Are you sure your guard just didn’t jump out of the moving carriage because of your attitude?”

“You’re not afraid of much, are you?” The prince remarks dryly, eyes already looking behind Lance for a way out or to signal how bored he is of this conversation.

Lance’s blood boils.

“Why? Is that a credential for being your guard? Will I have to pull you out of illegal fight rings? Does the prince like to get his hands dirty? Or are you the type that visits brothels and I’ll have to break up a fight when two people are competing for your patronage?” Lance places a hand over his heart as he finishes with, “I am humble enough to admit that I am fearless in most situations, if you’re planning on scaring me away.”

“I’m sure you are,” the prince sarcastically mutters. “It’s just, no one’s ever talked to me like that.” He sets his violet eyes on Lance and takes a few steps closer. So close that Lance can feel the prince’s hot breath on his skin. “Don’t do it again, knight.”

* * *

Lance discovers throughout the week that shadowing the prince is like trying to handle a rambunctious child: one minute they are by your side and the next they’ve disappeared into thin air. He’s not being paid enough; he’ll have to have words with Allura for not disclosing what the prince is truly like. A nightmare is what he is. 

Finally, Lance spots a head of wild hair in the market square. Even if he purposefully made his escape from Lance’s side, at least he had foresight to remove his crown to blend in with the common people better.

“I don’t know if I mentioned this, but trying to lose me won’t work,” Lance says as he slides right into the open space beside the prince. He is quite pleased when the prince noticeably startles--it’s slight, but Lance catches the jump in his shoulders in time. 

The prince looks over his shoulder after having calmed his expression. “It took you an hour to find me; I’m not impressed. I could’ve been murdered,” he states without much emotion. 

“And I would applaud that person for doing this world a favor.”

“Wow, now you’re adding abetting murder to your list of violations. I’m not that shocked, to be honest.”

“How can anyone stand to be around you for more than three minutes?”

“I often ask myself the same question because no matter what, I can’t seem to shake off dead weight,” the prince says with a pointed stare towards Lance before he moves on to the next vendor.

“Haha, very funny,” Lance flatly remarks. “What are you doing here?”

“The princess encouraged me to get to know her kingdom.” The prince gestures to the market square around them, bustling with life. This place has always been coined as the heart of Altea; it’s not hard to understand why. “I’d say this is the best way to do it.”

 _That’s actually… not a terrible idea_ , Lance has to admit, inwardly of course. “You’re still supposed to let me know where you’ll be so I don’t look stupid running around searching for you.”

The prince’s hands fall. “You’re not my nanny.”

“You act like a child so I may as well be.” The prince cuts him with a glare for the comment, but Lance allows it to roll off of him, throwing back one of his own. “When I went through knighthood training, they should have warned us that it was just a glorified babysitting position.”

“Can I order you _not_ to be here?”

Lance smiles at that. “No. But I can promise to stay a few feet away from you; I just need to keep you in my line of sight.”

Pointedly gazing at him for a few seconds, the prince sighs, a defeated one by the sound of it. “I don’t care anymore. Just tag along; it’s less weird than being followed from a distance.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Lance replies with a bow and a subtle smirk, hoping his words come off as a little mocking at the least. Whether or not the prince realizes that, he doesn’t comment. 

Perusing Altea’s largest market with the prince isn’t as horrible or tortuous as Lance would have originally bet on. In fact, Lance can be pressed to say that he is actually having fun. Though, that can be considered horrible in its own way. He shouldn’t be having fun with the prince of all people. 

The prince constantly swings his head back and forth, trying to absorb everything at once--something Lance knows is a futile effort, but he won’t tell the prince that--and a glimmer of curiosity lingers in his eyes no matter what he stares at. His open mouthed, wide eyed stare is maybe, partially, only slightly kind of cute, and that is as far as Lance is willing to go with that.

Caught up in berating his mind for traitorous thoughts, Lance almost stumbles into the prince who has stopped short. He places his hand on the prince’s back to stable himself--luckily the man is too caught up in the items on the table to notice the touch.

Beautifully crafted jewelry of all sorts rest at just the right angle so the sun glinting off the gem stones catches any wandering eyes. The prince has fallen right into the seller’s trap, but even Lance becomes entranced by the jewelry--though, maybe it is not so much the jewels that snatch his attention but the prince’s unguarded expression, a pleased smile on his face as he browses.

By the third time the prince attempts to blow his bangs off his face to see the items properly, Lance has to physically stop himself from brushing them behind the prince’s ear, trapping his hands under his arms. Lance can’t help but roll his eyes when the prince’s hair flutters back to its normal place, and he tries not to laugh at the man’s annoyed pout.

Lance snaps his eyes back on the vendor’s stall before he’s caught staring.

“Get that necklace,” Lance says with no filter, only to quickly tack on in a whisper, and for professionalism, “Your Highness.”

He points to a dark amethyst wolf pendant on a thick chain that stands out against the black velvet it rests upon. Lance had noticed the prince’s hand hovering over it while he looked at everything else, almost not knowing if he should buy it but interested enough that he didn’t want to lose it among everything else. 

“What?” The prince’s lips twist in confusion before they settle into that permanent frown of his. “And call me Keith. I have no use for formalities.”

The prince’s first name rolls around in Lance’s head and dances on his tongue and he has to stop himself from repeating it on impulse just to see how it feels on his lips. So he barrels forward to answer Keith’s first question with a little more honesty than he would have done if he was in the right headspace. “It matches the color of your eyes.”

Such a stupid thing to say.

Studying him for a moment, Keith’s expression shifts into something pleasant for once when he realizes there is no taunt present in Lance’s statement. He picks up the necklace, allowing the afternoon light to shine through the more translucent parts of the crystal. “Alright.”

Keith turns back to the vendor, handing over the coins to purchase the pendant without another word to Lance.

They don’t spend much longer in the market as most begin to filter out and stalls begin to be packed up for the night. Street torches are lit in preparation for dusk while they casually walk back to the castle. The walk is mostly passed in silence, but occasionally Lance will point out a store or area that he thinks the prince should know about, often accompanied by a story. Keith rarely comments back, content to listen. 

During the trip back, they share a bag of roasted nuts, both having missed their respective dinners, and Lance ends up battling Keith for the last handful, smirking in his victory at the grumbling prince. But Lance is almost blindsided by the overall soft expression on Keith’s face when his eyes catch the prince’s, as if he didn’t quite mind losing to Lance after all or lost to him on purpose.

Either of those options do weird things to Lance’s insides. 

Walking side-by-side with Keith to his room, and throughout the whole day, does not help soothe those feelings. Usually Lance’s observations are made from a few feet behind; yet here he got to see all of Keith’s ticks and quirks up close and personal. It has him casting his gaze to the left of Keith once they reach his door. “Um, goodnight, I guess.” Lance scratches the back of his head. 

Keith stiffly nods as if he’s not sure how to end their day either. “Goodnight, and thank you for allowing me to wander around your kingdom.”

His comment helps to ease Lance into a more relaxed state, shoulders dropping. “I hope you enjoyed yourself; Altea has a lot to offer.”

“I’m sure it does,” Keith replies, turning to his room but twists around again. “Oh, Lance.”

Holding out his hand, fingers curled as if clutching something, Keith mimics for Lance to do the same. Something Lance does with only a minor bit of hesitation. Two small objects drop softly onto his open palm, metal cold against his skin. Lying there are a pair of dangling earrings, the deepest of blue crystals glittering up at him.

“Wh-what’s this?” Lance asks in confusion, astonished gaze lifting to meet Keith’s. He doesn’t recall Keith picking up these--but there was that hour slot where Keith had not been in his line of sight; yet the craftsmanship is similar to that of the wolf pendant.

“They match the color of your eyes,” is all Keith replies. He slams the door after that, leaving Lance alone to stare at his open palm with wide eyes. He hates the blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

And he doubly hates that he liked the way Keith said his name for the first time.

* * *

Keith sits in Allura’s private garden with a book on his lap and the descending afternoon sun casting his shadow beside him. The wolf necklace rests against his chest--Lance admires his own amazing choice in jewelry because it truly does make Keith’s eyes pop as it, the only stark pop of color, rests against his darker clothing. Treading carefully, not wanting to disturb Keith too much, Lance steps away from the stone arch doorway and onto the soft grass.

Too absorbed in his novel, the prince keeps his eyes trained on the pages. 

So Lance takes this as an invitation to study the man. While most of his hair has been drawn away from his face, his bangs still hang in front of his eyes, touching the bridge of his nose. His features remain in a neutral state, shoulders taught and back straight--the prince can’t even seem to understand the most important element of free time, _relaxation_.

“You can’t sneak up on me,” Keith calls out, flipping to a new page. 

“I got pretty close though,” Lance comments back. He stands only a few feet away from the prince; his hands rest on his hips.

Finally Keith graces Lance with his undivided attention and with an unrelenting stare that proves Lance’s words false. “I could feel you staring at me from all the way by the door.”

“I was not _staring_ at you.”

“If you weren’t, then you were not doing your job well.” Keith smirks, knowing he backed Lance into a corner he can’t escape from without either admitting to not being able to keep his eyes off the prince or being terrible at his job. He does not appreciate this counter attack.

Lance sucks in a sharp breath as he waves a frustrated hand at Keith. “I was making sure you weren’t destroying Allura’s garden.”

“I’m sure the flowers were trembling while I was reading,” Keith replies dryly with an exaggerated eye roll.

Huffing, Lance stalks over, with a little more force in his step as he covers the last remaining ground between them. He stands in front of Keith, enjoying the fact that the prince has to tilt his head up to properly look at him. As Lance leans forward, Keith tenses only to realize Lance reaches behind Keith’s head and plucks the deepest ruby rose from one of Allura’s prized bushes. He brings the flower between them.

“Princess Allura is going to have your head.”

Lance twirls the rose in his fingers, holding it right under his nose to get a whiff of that sickly sweet scent. There is not a single blemish on any of the petals, all perfectly silky and soft to the touch. “She won’t know that I was the one who picked it.”

“What are you--”

Lance tucks the rose in Keith’s hair, resting it on his ear. “You look the best in red.”

That includes this rose, his clothes, and the blush that slowly creeps up onto his pale skin, even touching the tips of his ears, visible with his long hair pinned into a complicated bun.

Book snapping closed, Keith’s knuckles turn white where he grips the spine. “I have a meeting to attend.”

“Allow me to escort you.” Lance holds out his arm for Keith to take. It’s supposed to act as a teasing gesture but Keith takes it without complaint, hooking his arm through and drawing Lance closer. 

Lance swallows the flush that threatens to expose him as he refuses to look at Keith as they walk through the halls. He can still sense the prince’s masked smile, however.

It does weird, weird things to Lance’s insides again.

* * *

“Are you kidding me?” Lance whips around to the sound of the prince’s voice, startled enough that his sword hovers a few inches away from his chest. Keith doesn’t even take notice; his eyes are set into a glare. “I can’t be free of you for one full day.”

“It’s _my_ scheduled day off; don’t think I’m pleased about this either.” They may have started to gain some traction in the friend department--or at least, on their way to becoming friendly acquaintances--but that doesn’t mean Lance wants to see the prince everywhere he goes. There has to be some separation between work and free time. He places a hand on his hip. “Why _are_ you here, anyways?”

Keith’s lips twist. “To train because that’s what one does in a _training_ ground.”

“I didn’t think they let pretty princes like you hold swords, let alone get mud on your shoes.” Lance readily ignores the fact that the whole reason Keith, and his kingdom, is able to be here in the first place is because he knows how to hold a sword. A minor detail.

Walking forward, Keith easily breaches Lance’s personal space, stopping a few inches away with a glowing smirk on his face. “Is that what you think of me? Just _pretty_?”

“Oh, there are plenty of other words I associate with you, I just don’t want to be sent to the dungeons.” Lance presses the tip of his sword into the hard packed dirt ground as he leans closer to the prince. It’s difficult to keep a teasing expression off his face.

“How about we both spar?” Keith suggests. “It’d be a shame to waste an opportunity to have an opponent.”

“But you can't spar like this,” Lance comments, flicking his hand through Keith’s long hair. It pools over his shoulder in one dark ink spill. Unable to help himself, Lance’s fingers card through Keith’s hair one more time, caught up in how it just flows through his fingers, though Lance ends up playing off the embarrassing moment by tugging on the locks like he is five years old.

Rolling his eyes, Keith bats Lance’s hand away and self-consciously runs his own hand through his hair as if that will magically pull it out of his face. “I was in a rush. And I don’t really care about your opinion.”

“Do I have to do everything around here?” Lance huffs as he walks behind Keith. His hands are, once again, immediately in Keith’s hair; he pulls the mess into a lopsided bun that deceptively looks like it will fall apart with one twist of Keith’s head. “You’ll thank me when it doesn’t get accidentally chopped off now.”

Keith lightly touches the back of his head, satisfied with Lance’s work. “Still can’t help looking out for me even on your free day, huh?”

“Hey, it has nothing to do with that. I just didn’t want you blaming me if you came away from this with a new hairstyle.”

Keith narrows his eyes; his grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. “Like you could even get close enough.”

Lifting his sword, feet sliding into position, Lance says, “Let’s see about that.”

They dance together as Lance twists and turns away from Keith’s blade, metal striking together whenever their swords meet, and Lance widely grins. The ground becomes littered with footprints and a thin layer of dust covers their boots. Lance’s chest heaves from the exertion he is put under by the force of Keith’s rapid moves. His attacks are like lighting, striking quick and hot. 

“I have a question for you,” Lance says as he blocks a swing from Keith’s sword and pivots on his feet. 

“By all means.” Their sparring match slows to a crawl as they face each other. 

“Why were you such an ass in the beginning?” When Keith stares blankly at him, neither amused nor angry, Lance shrugs his shoulders. “What? I’m off duty. I can be as rude as I please.”

Keith’s sword lowers and Lance mirrors the action, rolling his shoulders; he’s quite thankful for the break. “Your job has never stopped you before.”

“Maybe it’s because you’ve let me get away with too much. Someone else in your position would’ve had me removed a long time ago.”

“That’s too much of a hassle,” Keith replies. “Then I would be stuck with someone truly boring. At least you make it fun.”

“That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Keith smiles, something subtle and not as mocking as he probably wants it to be. “Don’t get used to it.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Lance absentmindedly drums his fingers on the pommel of his sword. 

There is a long, hollow moment that hangs between them. Lance almost repeats the earlier question but Keith’s eyes rest on him, taking a deep breath before he starts.

“I’m stressed, and when I’m stressed, I’m curt and rude. And I should apologize for that.” Keith brushes back his sweaty bangs to reveal the full force of his dark gaze. “I’m sorry for offhandedly dismissing you the first day and for everything else. I just wasn’t prepared to have a stranger thrown my way the minute I arrived. You’ve been a… decent companion these past couple of weeks. If anything, arguing with you made me feel more comfortable. Took my mind off of everything else.”

“I’m glad I could help in some way.” Lance accepts the apology with a genuine smile before asking, “But why are you so stressed?”

Initially, Lance believes that Keith will say something along the lines of ‘because I am’ or just remain silent, but the prince continues to surprise him. 

“This is the first time I’m able to attend one of Princess Allura’s gatherings. I barely know any of these people, not to mention, except for the princess, they’re almost all ten or more years my senior.” Keith practically curls in on himself at the admission, holding onto one arm. It’s the first time Lance has ever seen the prince with hunched shoulders, and his eyes can’t seem to land on Lance.

Blatant shock settles within him. Lance never thought the Savior of Marmora would be… _shy_ , not with how brazenly he acts around Lance _._ Bridging the gap between them, he places a comforting hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I don’t think you’ve been doing that bad of a job. You can hold your own and give it right back to them with equal force.”

Keith tilts his head in disbelief. “How do you know?”

“It’s my duty to watch you, isn’t it?” Lance smiles before quickly shaking his head and hands in realization as he hastily steps back. “Oh wow, that sounds too creepy when I say it like that, sorry.”

Much to Lance’s surprise, Keith laughs; it’s a quiet one and Lance would have missed it if the training grounds weren’t so vacant. But it’s beautiful, alluring. Lance desperately wants to hear more. Hear Keith laugh loudly, hear him laugh uncontrollably. 

And Lance wants to be the cause of all of that.

That sudden thought catches him off guard but it really shouldn’t.

Lance has been getting more and more glimpses through Keith’s facade this past week, and he’s liking what he sees _a lot_. A lot, a lot.

An ‘eep’ escapes from his mouth when Keith charges again without warning. It’s undignified that Lance has to run away, regathering himself and shaking all those intrusive thoughts from his mind. He turns just in time to block Keith from catching him in the back, and they begin trading blows again. 

Lance is not proud to admit that Keith beats him… initially. Somehow towards the end of their sparring, Lance’s sword flies out of his hand and in the next moment he lies flat on the dirt ground, the sharp point of a blade centimeters from his throat. He glares at Keith’s nonchalant expression.

“See, I can handle myself,” Keith says. At least he doesn’t gloat too much over his victory, and Lance is just glad none of the other knights were around to witness this spectacle. He would never have heard the end of it.

Lance makes a split second decision when Keith sheaths his sword and holds out his hand--because apparently the prince is a gentleman now. Kicking out his legs, Lance causes Keith to fall on top of him. An unexpected shout escapes from Keith’s mouth before he braces himself by laying two flat palms on the ground beside Lance’s head. 

Keith’s hair cascades down from the makeshift bun, and Lance sucks in a sharp breath. The prince’s lips remain parted as he catches his breath from the long fight, chest heaving, and beads of sweat roll down his face. Lance watches them disappear in his collarbone and down his shirt.

“I win,” Lance whispers once he regains the will to speak.

“You cheated. The match was already finished.”

Lance tucks a lock of hair behind Keith’s ear, gazing into those starlight eyes. “A fair point but I win ‘cause I can do this.” He arches his head up to discover he doesn’t have lean in very far; Keith is there to meet him halfway. 

Keith kisses like he fights, with extreme passion and ferocity. But Lance doesn’t stumble; he matches Keith’s tempo effortlessly. Their lips slot together as Lance grips Keith’s bicep to keep himself from falling back onto the ground, but Keith’s arms wrap around Lance’s waist to support him without a word to do so. Fire burns steadily in his body the more he becomes lost in Keith’s touch.

It’s the beginnings of a craving that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of.

When the kiss slows and the need for air becomes apparent, Lance breaks away. Keith’s swollen lips are unmistakable--something Lance feels oddly proud of, but it is not like he has fared any better. Keith’s hair is completely disheveled too, a cute bedhead look.

“This isn’t because I like you,” Lance blurts when he feels his cheeks heating the longer he stares at Keith’s face and the longer Keith stares at him with the same unabashed openness.

Keith smirks. “Of course not.”

Lance is glad Keith never believed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are we sneaking out of your own castle?” Lance asks, gaze a little wary but he begins to follow nonetheless. 
> 
> “Because Shiro is even more concerned about my safety than you are.” Keith starts to climb down. Soon the sight of Lance in the window vanishes as Keith concentrates on his footwork. One misstep will send him tumbling three stories. 
> 
> “Well I don’t think that’s possible but ok.” 
> 
> Lifting his head, Keith watches Lance swing a leg over the ledge to begin his own tedious climb down. Looking up at this moment is really just staring at Lance’s ass but that’s not something to complain about. “And yet here you are, sneaking out with me.”
> 
> (or part 2 of the prince/knight au where there’s just as much fluff but also a touch more angst)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this taking five months to write, but it’s here now and hopefully the almost 13k word chapter makes up for the wait!! 
> 
> Warning for mild violence towards the end. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy:)

“Lance, wake up,” Keith says while prodding Lance in the shoulder, watching as his ambassador rolls over onto his back. Those blue eyes lethargically blink open only for them to close again and Lance groans.

“But it's so early.” He tries to pull the silk sheets over his face but Keith is faster than that. They’re ripped away from him and his whole body twitches at the sudden influx of cold air. Lance’s pout is cute.

“You're used to waking up before dawn every day.”

“Yeah but I thought the promotion would have changed that.” Blindly grappling for the edge of the blanket, Lance continues to just miss it and he ends up settling in a huff. He buries his face back into his pillow to mumble, “I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

Keith hums, leaning over Lance. He places his hands on Lance’s back and guides them up his body to knead his shoulders. Lance’s skin is warm, so much so that it almost draws Keith back into bed but he has a plan to see through. “I have a surprise to show you.”

Cracking one eye open, accompanied by a quiet moan, Lance says, “This better be worth it.”

As consolation, Keith helps him dress, laughing when they stumble into each other because Lance is still drunk off of sleep and refuses to help in the slightest. His brown hair becomes spiked after a shirt is forced over his head--Keith doesn’t bother to tell Lance that though; he deserves to look ridiculous after the difficulty he’s put Keith through. 

Because of the commotion, Kosmo wakes from his own night sleep. His tail thumps against the floor as he stares at the two from his dog bed. Keith walks over, patting him on the head, scratching behind his ears for a few moments. “Go back to sleep, Kosmo, we’ll only be gone for a couple hours.” Kosmo’s eyes slowly lower into slits, quite pleased. 

Catching Lance walking to the door, Keith tugs on the sleeve of Lance’s shirt before he can get too far. “No, we’re going this way,” Keith tells him, thumb pointing behind him. 

Lance’s confused gaze quickly transfers into a flat look. “We’re going out the window.” Lance shakes his head. “Is the door broken or something?”

Suddenly interested in casting his eyes around the room, Keith turns away from Lance. “Not exactly…”

Lance purses his lips, not saying anything until they reach the window. He peers down at the ground below. Keith already swings his leg over the window sill, finding a foothold on the lattice of vines while his hands grip the stone ledge. After testing to make sure it holds, he returns his attention to Lance.

“Why are we sneaking out of your own castle?” Lance asks, gaze a little wary but he begins to follow nonetheless. 

“Because Shiro is even more concerned about my safety than you are.” Keith starts to climb down. Soon the sight of Lance in the window vanishes as Keith concentrates on his footwork. One misstep will send him tumbling three stories. That is not something he wants to explain to Shiro, if he even survived that type of fall.

“Well I don’t think that’s possible but ok.” 

Lifting his head, Keith watches Lance swing a leg over the ledge to begin his own tedious climb down. Looking up at this moment is really just staring at Lance’s ass but that’s not something to complain about. “And yet here you are, sneaking out with me.”

There’s a quiet pause and then Lance says, “Hmm, I guess you win this round.”

“Didn’t know it was a competition.”

Since Keith has jumped onto the ground in the meantime, Lance towers over him, hanging on the vines for a moment longer. His eyes glimmer--he must be loving this. 

“Oh, it’s always a competition.” Fully awake now, Lance hops off the vines and barely allows for his feet to touch the ground before he calls out for a challenge. “Race you to the stables.” He darts off into the shadows, not waiting to see if Keith agrees. Not that it matters. Despite Lance’s (cheating) head start, Keith is already not that far behind.

Even after Keith wins the initial competition, much to Lance’s visible annoyance and Keith’s amusement at said annoyance, they continue to race through the capital. The cobblestone streets clap under their horses’ hooves. Not many people are up this early. A few faint candles rest in frosted windows and Keith thinks he can smell baking bread from one of the bakeries. But he’s moving too fast to properly tell.

A blur passes him, and Keith realizes that Lance is now a length ahead. 

Maybe it’s for the best that no one is around. Keith really could do without gossip floating around town of him wildly chasing after his fiancé like a lovesick teenager. Though, that description wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate. 

Somehow Lance seems to know where they’re going despite the fact that Keith never divulged the information. Must be instinct. As they move onto a beaten dirt path, heading away from the capital, Keith urges his horse to gallop faster. 

Wind whips through Keith’s hair, pulling strands out of his braid. 

When they come to a fork in the path, Keith shouts to take the left road. Lance heeds his direction without missing a beat. With the path as narrow as it is, Keith can’t find a good opportunity to pass Lance. He stays right on his tail though; he gives Lance a run for his money. They come to a stop at the bottom of a hill and tie their horses to a large tree. Keith pulls out an apple from the saddle bag, feeding his horse and patting the length of her face.

“Who’s the best?” Lance coos to his own horse as he rubs along the side of her neck. She ducks her head closer, bopping her nose into Lance’s cheek--almost tipping him over with her strength.

Losing is worth the exhilarating look Keith sees on Lance’s face. His short hair is completely windswept and he attempts to tame it with a quick swipe through of his hand. It doesn’t quite work.

“Ready?” Keith asks. Lance’s gaze travels up the hill though nothing can be seen beyond it at this height. 

“Lead the way, trailblazer.” Lance salutes him and follows him up.

The sky is just beginning to lighten; color returns to the earth. The trees have already started to change, dead leaves crunch under Keith’s boots, and the wind is becoming crisper every day that passes--not to mention the longer nights. Keith almost shivers from the early morning air. A few degrees lower and he would probably be able to see his breath.

It takes them no time at all to reach the top. Lance swings their clasped hands between them while Keith points to a perfect spot to sit down. The hill overlooks a large portion of the valley and the human eye can see everything up to the horizon. Whiffs of smoke drift into the air from chimneys, but even that can’t block the view.

Lance rests on the back of his hands to watch the dawn. The fading pinks and oranges dust Lance’s brown skin; light starts to reveal the freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Golden strands streak through his hair. Keith ends up watching Lance more than the sight around them. From the smile starting to appear on Lance’s face, Keith knows he has caught on.

“It’s okay to tell me I’m gorgeous instead of staring like a stalker.”

Keith’s lips curl, though he’s not really perturbed at being called out. “You used to stare at me all the time.”

Lance’s attention finally leaves the horizon and switches to Keith. “I was in charge of you. It was  _ my job _ to stare at your pretty face twenty-four seven. Which I might add was both a blessing and a pain in the ass.”

“Don’t blame me just because you never asked for reassignment during my first visit.”

“And let you win by pushing me away? I think the hell not.” Lance throws back his head and sighs, reminiscing on past years. "You know, I think it was love at first sight.” 

Keith scoffs so hard that a few birds flutter from a nearby tree. "That's a lie."

Lance gasps incredulously. “Are you calling me, an esteemed knight with a code of ethics to follow, a  _ liar _ ?”

“Yeah, I am.” Keith smirks. “What’re you going to do about it,  _ Sir McClain _ ?”

He already has his answer ready, apparently, as not a second passes before he is able to respond. Lance presses a hand against his heart.

“I will brave Allura’s fury and bring you a thousand roses from her garden. And if that doesn’t show you how much you mean to me, then I will cast myself into the sea, for I can not live without you.” Lance now rests his hand on his forehead, falling back to the ground in a dramatic sigh. 

Keith laughs but follows Lance’s lead to lay on the ground. The sky seems so much more infinite above him. If it ever came crashing down on them, they would surely die or be swallowed whole. “Someone’s been reading too many romance novels.”

Lance peeks at him with one eye. “You scoff at my declaration of love once again?” He props himself up, now partially leaning over Keith. He blocks most of the sky, but Keith can’t find it within him to mind. “We can’t have that.”

Lance kisses him and Keith easily surrenders.

“Shouldn’t we be sneaking back in?” Lance asks. He hesitates on the threshold while the guards wait painterly for him to move so they can close the heavy doors. Realizing this, Lance sends an apologetic glance towards them and rushes closer.

Keith shrugs, gesturing for him to follow. “By now Shiro already knows we’re missing, no use hiding it.”

“So you’re the reason he has that floof of white hair.” Lance laughs at his own musings. They march through the great hall but are careful about making sure they don’t track mud across the red carpet. Suddenly, Lance stills beside Keith, veering away from his side. A moth drawn towards a flame. He shouldn’t have taken Lance this way. “Whoa, when was that portrait commissioned?”

Keith cringes. He has always hated that thing, always wanted to lock it in some closest never to be seen again. It’s not that the artist did a terrible job, but there’s something about seeing a portrait of himself hung up in the main hall with past rulers, placed right after his mother’s, that always firmly sets his jaw. “A few weeks after I took back Marmora.”

This had been one tradition his then-recently established council had refused to let go of. They wanted everything to be official. Even to this day, Keith doesn’t quite understand how a portrait validated his claim to the throne, but he complied to stand still for two hours and they were pleased.

At least the painter kept his displeased scowl.

“Your hair looks terrible,” Lance remarks with a dry chuckle. 

Rolling his eyes--because of course that would be the first thing Lance comments on--Keith explains, “We were at war; shorter hair was practical.”

Instead of long hair tumbling down his back, it’s chopped above his shoulders, curling around his jaw and off the back of his neck in uneven, ragged layers. Keith hasn’t cut it that short in ages, and he probably won’t ever again.

“Yeah, but it looks like you hacked at it with a dull knife.” At Keith’s blank stare, Lance frowns, though he seems to have been expecting the wordless answer. “You did, didn’t you? Why am I not surprised?” He grasps Keith’s face in his palms. “You’re lucky I’m here to stop your terrible life choices now.”

“Oh good,” Keith mutters in heavy sarcasm. But Lance isn’t listening, his eyes now focused on the portrait right next to Keith’s. He doesn’t need to turn around to know just which family member has caught Lance’s attention.

“Is that your mom?”

“Yeah,” Keith answers, still staring at Lance.

Lance’s eyes are soft when they flicker back to Keith. His mouth is set into a quiet smile. “You look like her.”

Finally, Keith turns his head. She looks regal, perfect posture, hand resting on the pommel of her sword attached to her hip, a golden crown surrounded by dark hair. He hardly remembers her, not in the way that counts at least. He recalls a faint scent of her perfume and her hands tucking him into bed. His father had told him plenty of stories growing up of course, but she always remained a distant figure. A hero who defended her kingdom to her last breath but not a mother. 

Everyone always says that Keith has her eyes and her spirit. He knows the first is true, but he doubts the second.

“She would’ve been proud of you,” Lance remarks quietly. In the stillness that passes between them, Lance seems to understand the need to steer the conversation differently. He nudges Keith in the side. “You think they would have liked me? Honestly, she seems like a hard person to impress.”

“Not just her, my father would’ve definitely kept a close eye on you. But they would’ve easily warmed up to you; you have that effect on people.” Keith smiles towards the end. Lance can break through the most stubborn of personalities.

Grabbing onto Lance’s hand, Keith leads him further down the hall and away from any portraits that matter. Now the only dead ancestors that stare at them are so old that Keith wouldn’t even be able to remember their names.

When they reach Keith’s office, Shiro stands in the doorway, ready to greet them with a stern frown. At least he knew better than to send out a search party--that has only happened once. “I thought we talked about this, Your Highness.”

Lance laughs beside Keith. “Ooo, someone’s in trouble.”

Shiro’s gaze immediately darts to Lance; his mouth is set in a firm line. “You enable him; don’t think you’re off the hook.”

“Ooo, I’m in trouble,” Lance mumbles quietly to himself. Keith laughs this time.

* * *

He never wanted this, not the crown, not the kingdom. He hadn’t even grown up in Marmora since he and his father were constantly moving around--his father always used job hunting as an excuse but now Keith knows it was to keep him hidden. By the time his father died, Keith became a stationary figure in a little town off the border of Marmora, usually plagued by Zarkon’s raids, and Keith, though not on purpose, had made a name for himself by fending them off at such a young age. The rumors spread.

It’s what brought Shiro to his doorstep, bestowing him his origins and title (after seeing the royal Marmoran signet ring around his neck) and a plea to help the rebellion take down Zarkon and reclaim his kingdom. 

Honestly, throughout it all, Keith believed he could have just vanished after the deed was done. They could elect their own ruler; Keith was no prince. That was almost ten years ago and yet here he still is--but Keith refuses to be crowned as their king, the ceremony too much of a hassle when he’s running things just fine as a prince regent.

However, being able to know Lance, befriend Lance, and fall in love with him has been an unexpected bonus.

Though, Keith can do without the assassination attempts. They are annoying at best and slightly concerning at the worst, especially when they can slip in so close to scar him or poison his food.

But ultimately there’s a reason why he never abandoned Marmora after he killed Zarkon, why he didn’t refuse Shiro’s initial call. He’s too duty bound to ever leave, no matter how much he literally wants to sweep Lance off his feet right now and run away.

Keith’s eyes refocus on the paperwork before him--yeah, he could do without all this as well. His hand cramps from every signature, every seal he’s had to stamp into the hot wax, and every edit he’s had to make to some ridiculous clause in a proposal. Sitting across form him is Lance, having his own fair share of torture sent to him by Queen Allura.

Lance’s hand drums its own rhythm against the dark wood of Keith’s desk, a thin beat of metal hitting the surface with every pat. His ambassador seems unphased by the sharp sound.

Keith eyes the signet ring on Lance’s finger--the last remnant he has of his family, not that Lance is aware of that. The first few days after he gave it to Lance, Keith often sought for it on his own finger, something of a subconscious tick he had to calm himself, forgetting it had a new owner. And now he sometimes catches Lance touching the ring throughout the day, and it makes him happy to know he gave it to someone who will treasure it just as much. 

Ripping off a small piece of the parchment, he rolls it into a haphazard ball.  He lightly tosses the ball of paper forward, watching it bounce off of Lance’s forehead--a perfect shot--and fall unceremoniously onto the desk.

Lance stares at the offending object for a moment, eyes widening as it all catches up to him, before he jerks his head up to glare at Keith. His brows are scrunched in disbelief. “What was that for?”

"Your face looked funny." Keith isn’t sure how long he had been staring at Lance, maybe only a minute, maybe more. His hair has grown longer since they left Altea, starting to hang near his eyes now. It’s a cute look on him.

A pout slides onto Lance’s face, brow smoothing out again. "It's my thinking face."

"Huh, I didn't realize you even knew how to think."

“Good one, Keith,” Lance mutters sarcastically before he puts his pen down, hands folding underneath his chin. "Is  _ His Highness _ bored with his paperwork?"

"How did you know?"

"Guess it's up to me to save the day as usual."

"My knight in shining armor," Keith deadpans.

"Don't you forget it." They stare at each other before Lance sighs and pushes back his chair. “Alright, come on,” Lance commands as he grabs hold of Keith’s hands and drags him out of his seat. “Up an’ at ‘em.”

“What are you doing?” Keith questions when he matches Lance’s stance in a stiff manner. He can feel Lance’s fingers on his back through his tunic; they trace circles on his spine, enticing him to relax.

Lance steps back and Keith has no choice but to follow him. “Trying to get you to dance. No better way to cure boredom.” Their feet make no sound on the carpet. All Keith can hear is the sound of Lance’s quiet breathing and Kosmo’s tail periodically thumping against the ground as he dreams. Not much of a rhythm to go by.

“But there’s no music and I usually train when I’m bored.”

“There’s no rule that says you need music to dance, Keith.” Lance rolls his eyes before a quiet smirk rests on his lips. “Besides, I thought you were all about breaking the rules.”

“Yeah, but this just seems silly.”

“Fine, guess it’s once again up to me.” Lance dramatically sighs.

“What are yo--”

At first, Keith doesn’t realize it, but Lance hums a tune, softly adding in the lyrics for only Keith to hear. Keith leans in closer to make sure he catches every word. It sounds like a lullaby but Keith doesn’t know it well. It’s beautiful, or maybe that is just because Lance is the one singing to him. He can admit to being biased. 

Lance swings him around the study. Their feet press into the carpet. Their fingers interlock. Keith tries not to step on Lance’s toes, but he knows he fails at least once. Luckily, Lance is gracious enough not to comment and his smile never falters. Knocking his forehead against Lance’s, Keith allows all the tension in his body to fade away. 

By the time a servant enters the room with a letter, they have already settled back into their respective seats. A happy smile rests on Keith’s face even when he sees that the letter is from Diabazaal.

* * *

Two months after Lance joins him in Marmora, they receive their first visitor. 

“Thank you for hosting me on my travels, Your Highness.” The prince of Diabazaal, Lotor, bows to him.

Keith has never met Lotor in person before--the prince being one to send delegates in his stead for Queen Allura’s gatherings, and much like Keith himself, had taken over a ruined kingdom after Zarkon’s reign. The prince is only staying for two or so days but it is uncomfortable having a stranger roam around his home, intruding on his life.

Plus, it is a little awkward, to say the least, staring into the eyes of the person whose father you killed, but Prince Lotor’s gaze holds no ill will. In fact he smiles at the sight of both of them. His long white hair is slicked back off his forehead. He’s tall, taller than both Keith and Lance, and Keith isn’t sure he likes that he has to look up at Lotor.

“Of course. I’m glad we are finally able to meet face to face,” Keith responds continuing with the pleasantries. They’ve corresponded through letters on numerous occasions, attempting to find a solution to the Zarkon supporters infestation that plagues both their kingdoms. Letters can only tell someone so much though.

“Any company is welcome; there’s too many lonely, empty rooms in this place,” Lance cracks a light remark, a smile on his face. His hand lingers on Keith’s lower back and Keith tries to subtly lean into Lance’s touch--though he expects everyone in a hundred mile radius can see it.

Lotor certainly seems to lock his eyes onto the brief movement. He thinly smiles at Lance. “Sir McClain, was it?”

Lance straightens his back, eyes solely on the prince in front of him and his expression remains neutral. Lines crease the area between his brows. It’s no different than when he used to be on duty, standing guard behind Keith, always needing to be alert. His hand lifts from Keith’s back. “Yes, Your Highness.”

A frown slips onto Keith’s face when he spots the change in Lance’s mannerisms but he chooses not to comment on it, at least not in Lotor’s presence.

“I don’t like him,” Lance says quite plainly the minute Lotor is out of earshot. His whole body deflates, shoulders loosening. He clasps his hands behind his head and breathes a visible sigh of relief. 

Though they walk further away with every step, Keith still feels the need to whisper. “You’ve just met him.  _ I  _ barely even know him.”

“He gives off a vibe,” Lance says, wiggling his fingers. He narrows his eyes in the direction Lotor went in.

“What?” Keith almost laughs. “Is there not enough room in the castle for both of your egos?”

“Hey!” Lance hunches his shoulders as he crosses his arms. The tips of his ears turn red, truly adorable. 

“Remember you didn’t think highly of me when we first met.”

“True,” Lance easily agrees, past indignance simmering down. He tilts his head fondly at the memory before pointing his finger at Keith. “But you were annoying, so you did deserve it.” He pauses for a moment, choosing his words as he taps that pointer finger against his bottom lip. “You were not a complete ass though. And  _ he  _ seems like a whole ass.”

Keith can’t stop his sharp laugh. “A  _ whole  _ ass?”

“I stand by what I said!”

Despite the need to tease Lance, Keith is not foolish enough to disregard the way Lotor looks down on Lance. He hopes the introduction was just a fluke. But he knows his instincts, and he trusts Lance’s instincts even more. Unfortunately, he can’t just throw Lotor out with no explanation other than a bad first impression.

Keith sighs, amusement leaving him too quickly. He misses the days where he was able to be as rude and unfriendly as he pleased. “Let’s just see what happens.”

Dinner that night is awkward. Since Keith has never prided himself on his conversation skills, for good reason, Lance takes up most of his slack. Or at least tries to. Whenever Lance asks Lotor a question, he is met with one word, monotone answers and the table has to descend into silence for another minute or two until Lance tries again.

During the day, Keith and Lotor discussed plans for taking down the rest of Zarkon’s supporters. Mostly it was a lot of back and forth. Keith wanted something quick and swift, the sooner they can end this the better. While Lotor understood that it’ll take a delicate touch, especially when Zarkon’s supporters are more interwoven throughout major branches of Lotor’s kingdom where their home roots are. Keith hates to admit that Lotor is right. Doesn’t mean he has to outwardly praise the man though.

Unfortunately their comradery during the day has not carried over into dinner. 

Eventually even Lance gives up on starting a conversation and silently saws through his meat like he wants to slice through the plate underneath it as well. Keith glares into his wine glass. There’s only one difference between dinner right now and their meeting this afternoon. Keith doesn’t enjoy the implications of his observations.

After what seems like hours later and dinner concludes, Lance excuses himself for the rest of the evening, stating the need to finish a pressing document to send to Queen Allura. Which Keith knows to be both the truth but also a handy excuse. Keith can’t blame him. In fact, he himself would rather not spend another minute in Lotor’s presence, if this is how he acts towards Lance. But he has a guest to entertain. It would be rude to leave Lotor by himself.

After a quick, formal bow to Lotor, Lance places an apology kiss on Keith’s cheek and squeezes his hand in comfort before Keith has to let go or else Keith will be dragged out of the room with Lance. Keith desperately wishes he could follow, watching Lance’s retreating back as he turns the corner to completely disappear.

“So tell me, what does he have on you?” Lotor’s sudden question startles Keith, enough for his eyes to snap away from the door and his feet to jerk harshly on the carpeted floor.

Eyes hardening to steel, he cautiously asks, “Who?” even though he already knows the answer.

“That knight. Is it blackmail? How is he forcing you to marry him?”

“ _ Excuse me? _ ”

“Oh, please.” Lotor sips a bit of his red wine and then rests his chin in his hand. “We’re both royalty here; no need to play stupid. It can stay our secret.”

“I don’t know what rumors you’ve been listening to,” Keith hisses, “But the reason why I’m marrying  _ Lance  _ is because I love him. There’s no threats, no blackmail.”

This isn’t the first time someone has questioned Keith on the validity of the proposal--his council being the main culprit. Once he mentioned how Queen Allura herself encouraged the union and saw it as a way to strengthen the bond between their two kingdoms, the reasonings seemed to appease them for now. They don’t have to know that he would sooner abdicate the throne than not marry Lance.

He tries not to kill Lotor with his glare.

Lotor holds up his hands in surrender. “I meant no disrespect. Word of your relationship has spread like wildfire throughout the kingdoms; I was curious to know if any of it was true. A prince marrying a knight, quite ridiculous when you hear it from a servant's mouth, isn’t it?”

“He’s an ambassador now,” Keith points out, “But no, I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”

“You’ll get bored of him when he can’t fulfill your needs, when you realize he’s beneath you,” Lotor muses. He laughs at his own words, as if he didn’t say them to be unkind and as if Keith isn’t seething across from him. Lotor tilts his head, eyes locked onto Keith for a moment. “Divorce isn’t an option for us, better consider this carefully.”

Keith’s wine glass begins to splinter, spider web cracks running from his fingertips. When he places the glass on the table, a few shards fall with a clink. Lotor doesn't notice, or at least Keith hopes he's too busy staring into the flames of the fireplace.

Lotor’s gaze flickers back to him in amusement. The crushed wine glass has not gone unnoticed after all.

Well, he put in a good effort. The chair slides back as he stands. “If you’ll excuse me, I should make sure my fiancé isn’t working himself to death.”

Lotor dips his head in acknowledgment. “Of course.”

Keith doesn’t care anymore if it is rude to leave Lotor with only the flickering light from the fireplace to keep him company. He just needs to leave before he does something stupid.

The door to their bedroom bangs open, and Keith marches over to the desk Lance sits at. Lance barely has anytime to acknowledge his entrance before Keith engulfs him. 

Wrapping his arms around Lance, Keith drops his head onto Lance’s shoulder, nose brushing against Lance’s neck and catching a whiff of the cologne he had sprinkled on before dinner. He breathes deep and allows his body to slump against Lance.

“You’re back early,” Lance says, amused. The pen drops out of his hand and he gives up on finishing his paperwork. Keith hopes the deadline isn’t actually that important to meet, though Lance looks close to finishing.

“Mmhm.”

“I take it, I shouldn’t have left you alone.” Lance arches his head back a little to try to get a good look at Keith. It’s such an awkward angle that he settles on placing a hand on Keith’s arm for comfort. “You didn’t beat him up, did you? Though, I doubt I would have stopped you, but Shiro wouldn’t have been pleased.”

Keith should have, missed opportunity honestly. The fact that he actually has to work with this man if they want to do anything noteworthy about Zarkon’s supporters is truly icing on the cake. “He just pissed me off.”

“Wait--” Lance whips his head around almost smacking into Keith. “I was joking; did you  _ really _ ?”

Keith rolls his eyes but placates Lance quick enough. “I left him sitting alone. Have a little faith.”

“Thank the gods for that.” He shifts his body around in the chair so he doesn’t have to strain his neck. “But he said something stupid, I’m assuming?” Lance correctly guesses.

Lance had been right from the beginning, Keith realizes, Lotor is a whole ass.

“Yes.”

Lance narrows his eyes, already understanding what subject matter Lotor touched upon. “I should hope you didn’t damage a needed alliance on my account. I don’t need you to defend my honor. You know I don’t care what people like him say.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to sit around while they say shit about you!” Keith argues, voice loud, words sharp. Lance softly mutters his name, fingers toying with a loose lock of his hair, and Keith lowers his head. Closing his eyes for a moment, he breathes out a burst of hot air. In a lower tone, he says, “I just wish we could get married sooner so all these stupid comments can stop.” 

Not that the comments  _ will  _ stop but maybe something officially binding will keep those comments behind closed doors where they belong. And not said directly to his face.

Unfortunately, planning a royal wedding takes months and months of preparations. They haven’t even started the process, too busy with their own duties. At this point, their wedding probably won’t even be set until next year.

Lance falls silent for a moment. If Keith wasn’t so confident in Lance’s affection, part of him may have been scared of Lance reconsidering accepting the proposal. Not that he would ever think a few nasty comments could chase Lance away, but they’re a simple sign that things won’t be easy for them, for Lance especially. That people won’t be accepting. Suddenly, Lance stands up from the chair and walks to the center of their bedroom. 

Spinning around, Lance cards a hand through his hair. What had been so carefully styled back for the dinner now flops down around his head again. “Let’s do it,” is all Lance says.

“What?”

“Get married now. As long as I can invite my family and Allura, I don’t care.” Lance is inches away from Keith again, those eyes widening the more he continues talking. He grabs onto Keith’s hands; his thumb rubs over Keith’s scarred knuckles. “I’d rather have a more private ceremony anyways. Then we can have a bigger one for the kingdom so they don’t feel slighted. But at least we’ll actually be married while we prepare for that spectacle.”

“You always come up with the best ideas,” Keith easily admits. This man is one of a kind, isn’t he?

Lance nods his head in quick agreement. “It’s why you keep me around.”

“Among other reasons.”

Just like that, Keith’s bad mood vanishes. He grabs onto Lance’s face and drags him into a biting kiss. Lance grins against his mouth; his arms wrap around Keith’s waist. Suddenly, Keith is being led forwards while Lance walks backwards. The action interrupts their kissing just a little--Keith may be a skilled fighter but when it comes to multitasking between walking and kissing, he missed that lesson. His lips peck the corner of Lance’s mouth as they hit a roadblock. Lance’s legs whack into something hard.

They fall back onto the bed, and Keith makes sure to show Lance just how much he’s appreciated.

* * *

They set their spur of the moment wedding for a day three weeks in the future. Enough time for an invitation to get to Lance’s family and for them to make the journey. Though, it’s about two weeks until the date now. 

At some point during his daily duties, and soon after Lotor left, Keith decided it was the perfect time for a day trip to one of the far borders of his kingdom. It was easy to plan the destination. It was a little more difficult hiding the real preparations from Lance.

Even though he has been cautious, Keith knows Lance realizes where they are despite the blindfold covering his eyes. It’s hard not to. Waves crash onto the shore, salt water peppers their cheeks, and the cry of seagulls echoes off the water’s surface. Keith leads Lance close enough that the tide touches the tips of his boots as it laps against the sand.

“Can I take it off now?” Lance asks. Grinning, he reaches up to the knot on the back of his head.

“Go ahead,” Keith says without hesitation. 

Wasting no time, Lance unties the fabric and lowers it from his eyes. The cloth dangles in his grasp when he drops his arm. Only a second passes before Lance’s mouth pops open. He stares at the ocean in stunned silence while Keith stares at him. “Oh gods,” Lance says, breathless, “this is even better than my imagination.” 

The sky is overcast and the light gray haze colors the afternoon sun pink. Its reflection bobs on top of the ocean, which is long enough to reach the shoreline. This section of the beach is empty; the rocky outcroppings practically cut them off from the outside world. Seashells and rocks litter the sand, and the bottoms of Keith’s feet have been pricked by more than a few of them. 

“I never want to leave,” Lance sighs, closing his eyes, and just basks in the atmosphere. Lance wraps his arm around Keith’s waist, resting his head on Keith’s. 

Keith continues to look at him; nothing would be able to tear him away at this point. That happiness, that contentment, will easily become infectious, Keith can already tell. “We can stay as long as you like.”

Finally, Lance directs his gaze toward Keith. His lips brush against Keith’s hair when he turns his head. “Are you sure you can spare the time?”

Keith nods his head. “Think of this as your wedding present.”

A pleased sound echoes in the back of Lance’s throat, though his mouth slips into a subtle frown. “You’re giving me my life long dream and all I did was get you something shiny,” Lance says, as if he didn’t give Keith the most meaningful present. 

Somehow he had been sneaky--something Keith didn’t even think Lance was capable of. Somehow he had found Keith’s mother’s dagger. For a couple years Keith ardently searched for it, knowing his mother apparently hadn’t been buried with it and his father had to escape before she could give it to him. But Keith’s duties as ruler became too overbearing and he had to stop the search. By that point, he honestly just believed Zarkon took the dagger and melted the luxite metal down for jewelry. 

Yet Lance apparently uncovered it after a week or two of exploring. Keith couldn’t even speak when Lance first gave it to him. He just stood there, hands trembling over the leather hilt and the purple gem, not knowing if he could trust his eyes. Lance is always full of surprises. 

“It’s a good thing I enjoy shiny things,” Keith teases. The dagger is currently strapped to the back of his belt, and he doubts he’ll go anywhere without it anymore. The weight of the weapon is more of a comfort than anything. “But you know it’s more than that.”

A half smile appears on Lance’s face as he steps away. “I do.” Leaning down, Lance takes off his boots and rolls up his pants until they sit just above his knees. As he walks towards the water, his hand stays locked with Keith’s which forces Keith to follow him.

They wade into the water up to their ankles. Despite the changing seasons, the water remains warm from southern currents. Still, it is not the best time for swimming, but Lance appears undeterred by this fact. 

He cups his hands in the water, lifting up what he can, and throwing it into the air so it can rain down around him. He must be able to taste the salt on his tongue when he licks his lips. Keith watches with rapt attention not even bothered when he gets sprinkled in sea water by standing so close to Lance. 

The droplets sparkle on Lance’s brown skin. He glows in the sun, like he’s never been a stranger to the sea. Like this is where he belongs. 

Catching Keith staring, Lance winks and unexpectedly dives fully under the surface.

“Really?” Keith says out loud, crossing his arms. They brought no change of clothes, which means when they ride back to the castle, Lance will probably complain most of the time. 

Why it didn’t dawn on him that Lance would be foolish enough to take a dive into the ocean during the fall season, Keith’s not sure. An oversight on his part.

Soon enough, Lance breaks through the surface, shaking his head like a wet dog. He looks quite pleased with himself while Keith continues to glare. Pushing back his hair, Lance grins at Keith. He gestures for Keith to wade closer to him, but considering that would soak Keith up to the waist, he shakes his head. 

Lance playfully frowns. He swims forward instead, and standing, attaches himself to Keith’s waist. His wet hair drips down Keith’s face. His soaked shirt seeps into Keith’s back; it causes him to shiver. Breath close to his ear, Lance leans down to whisper, “What would you do if I dunked you in the ocean right now?”

Keith can almost feel the Cheshire grin on Lance’s lips as they curve over the shell of his ear. “You wouldn’t dare.”

A puff of air blows across his skin, fluttering his bangs. “Ha, I’ll keep you in suspense.” Stepping back, Lance flicks a bit of water at Keith with his foot. It splatters across Keith’s pants.

Just as Keith contemplates the pros and cons of pushing Lance back into the ocean, he hears someone yell his name. Both of them jerk their heads at the sound. In the distance, a rider crests over a sand dune and it only takes Keith a moment to realize that it’s Shiro. 

His stomach curls; any interruption can’t spell good news.

“Come on,” Lance says, tone quiet. He can sense it too. Resting a hand on Keith’s lower back, Lance guides them out of the ocean to meet Shiro halfway.

Shiro’s horse skids to a stop before them, a little unstable in the sand. "Thank the gods you're safe."

"Why are you here; what happened?" Keith immediately asks.

Shiro’s eyes are wide while he breathes heavily from what must have been a sprint through the kingdom. His horse looks just as ragged. It took Keith and Lance a little under two hours to reach the ocean; Shiro must have tried to cut the time in half.

"One of Zarkon’s supporters broke into the castle."

“Wha--” Lance exclaims but Keith cuts him off, placing a hand in front of him before he can charge Shiro, demanding for details. It’s almost scary how easily Lance can slip into his different personas when the situation demands it.

"Was anybody hurt?" Keith asks for the both of them, probably appearing more calm than the situation warrants. 

"Thankfully no. But they were caught near your study, heading towards your room," Shiro explains. "They took a poison capsule before we could question them." 

Keith rubs a hand across his forehead; pain squeezes his brain. They never fail to give him a headache. “They’re getting more bold,” he mutters. What would it have been this time if Keith hadn’t diverted his usual schedule with a beach trip? Jump him from the shadows of an alley, slit his throat in his sleep, poison his food? Trying to murder him in broad daylight would have to be a new one though. 

“That’s a frickin understatement.” Lance grits his teeth, posture stiff. 

Knowing their trip has come to an abrupt end, they begin to walk towards the spot where they left their horses. Shiro follows them, hopping down and guiding his own horse over the uneven sand. Keith can’t even focus on either of them, mind too crowded with thoughts.

"You both need to go somewhere else for a while. Not the castle,” Shiro says. 

“I’m not running away!” Keith snaps when he whips around toward Shiro. 

“Keith,” Lance says gently, hand resting on his shoulder. Keith clenches his jaw but remains silent.

Shiro isn’t phased at the minute outburst. He matches Keith with a level tone and unwavering advice. “Think of it more like a short vacation, only for a few days while we sort out the holes in our security. The cabin in the mountains, perhaps. Not many people know your mother had that built."

Keith never visited that cabin as a child--and if he did before Zarkon conquered their kingdom, he would have been too young to remember--but in the early days of his new reign, Keith would often find himself riding to the woods in search of some connection to his family. The cabin would only calm him down about half the time, but it is a beautiful spot to live.

After a moment, Keith nods his head--somewhat in defeat but he knows a good plan when he hears one and he has another person to worry about now too. Plus, going to the cabin takes care of another thing. “That... works.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow, probably surprised by Keith’s rather easy acceptance. “Seriously?”

“I was already planning on going there for the wedding.”

Sighing, Shiro rolls his eyes. “Of course. Why did I think you’d finally care about your own safety?”

Keith doesn’t miss that Lance rolls his eyes either. Both Lance and Shiro share one of  _ those  _ looks. They’re both dead to him, Keith decides immediately. Grabbing his shoes, he hops onto his horse before he can hear their unwanted commentary.

They follow Shiro back to a place they can safely rest at while a servant gathers the things they’ll need from the castle. Mentally, Keith promises to take Lance to the ocean again and they’ll stay for nights on end in a cottage nearby. When everything is settled, he will treat Lance to the honeymoon he deserves. 

Lance, who, out of old habit if nothing else, had been keeping his horse a few paces behind Keith’s, moves to trot beside Keith. "So, you're still thinking about our wedding despite all of this?" Lance’s lips quirk despite the fact that he held similar sentiments as Shiro not ten minutes ago.

"There's only a few things that keep me sane in this world. I'm not going to let a break-in ruin one of them,” Keith admits.

"That's quite romantic of you."

"We can make sure your family is safe and tell Queen Allura to bring a few more guards..." But Keith sighs. Tipping his head back, his hair falls into his eyes. He has to be an adult about this, right? Other people could be affected, not just him. Keith’s fingers tightly curl over the reins. It  _ would  _ be the right thing to do. "Unless you think we should push it off until it’s safe here…" Keith curses. “We should, shouldn’t we?”

"I know we should,” Lance begins honestly. Surprisingly, while his expression remains neutral, Lance hesitates in his answer. If Keith was a gambler, he would have bet on Lance being in favor of a postponement. Lance’s gaze meets Keith, holding steady. “But I think I’d rather have someone kill me first before I’d let that happen and even then that might not stop me from marrying you."

“Now you’re the romantic.” Keith tries to control the subtle smile on his face. Maybe Lance does indulge him a little too much. “A little morbid for you, though.”

“I’m trying my best with the material I have.” Suddenly, Lance pulls back on the reins; his horse stops. It forces Keith to do the same. He whips his head around to see what’s the problem only to be met with Lance’s serious expression. He cards a hand through his damp hair before he speaks again. “But  _ you  _ have to try your best not to get into any trouble. We can’t be sneaking out anymore. Just because nothing happened doesn’t mean it wasn’t going to be another assassination attempt.”

“Bu--”

Lance narrows his eyes, all playfulness gone for the moment. “ _ Promise me _ .”

Keith’s mouth twists in displeasure but it’s easy for him to break under Lance’s unwavering gaze. His shoulders slump. He knows he has to do better. “I’ll try. I promise.”

This seems to satisfy Lance enough and a quiet smile appears on his face. They begin to ride next to each other, side by side for the rest of the journey.

* * *

Lance is dressed in all white with a cloak depicting the coat of arms of Altea--a golden roaring lion’s head--on his shoulders. It sways around him in the quiet breeze coming down from the mountains. His hair flutters against his forehead. Keith can’t look away. 

A ceremonial, decorative sword hangs off Lance’s belt. His fingers tap a beat against the pommel though his gaze is forever focused on Keith. When he tilts his head to the side, those blue dangling earrings move with him.

Keith absentmindedly touches the wolf pendant hanging from his neck. All eyes are on him as makes his way down the grassy aisle. Keith also wears white, though his clothes have purple accents instead of gold, and a crown rests on his head. The metal is cool against his forehead, reminding Keith that he’ll have to get a crown commissioned for Lance--he’ll be king consort eventually, after all.

Since the cabin is situated in the mountains, snow drifts down lazily from the sky. It coats the hard-packed ground in a thin layer. Snowflakes tickle his nose and catch in his lashes but don’t take too long to melt. When Keith shifts his body to stare directly at Lance, now inches away, his boots crush the frozen leaves.

“Hey,” Keith says, a little awkward, a lot excited, but mostly star struck. 

Lance nudges him in the shoulder while Shiro begins with the opening words of the ceremony. “Hi.”

“You look nice.”

“I always look nice, thank you.” Lance grins before adding, “So do you.”

Flowers have been braided into Keith’s long hair. Once in a while, he forgets about them when he lifts a hand to card back his bangs only to remember at the last second. Lance laughs at his expression. He reaches for Keith’s hand, thumb rubbing across his scarred knuckles, to distract him.

“Don’t undo my hard work,” Lance whispers.

“Why? ‘Cause  _ you  _ want to later?”

Lance’s grin only widens. “You know me too well.”

The entirety of Lance’s family came, along with Queen Allura and her betrothed, Lady Romelle. The only person Keith has on his side is Shiro, who has stepped in as the officiant, as well as Kosmo. It’s a small gathering but it’s perfect. Most of their guards remain around the perimeter, ever watchful. Keith hopes he has  _ some  _ luck on his side and no one will interrupt them. His wish is granted.

Keith ignores the tears at the corners of his eyes when he says his vows, when Lance says  _ his _ vows, and when he slips a ring onto Lance’s finger. He continues to ignore his wet cheeks when they kiss for the first time as a married couple. Lance’s thumb gently brushes underneath his eye to pick up one last stray tear.

“I love you,” Keith says, wanting it to be the first thing whispered between them after the ceremony.

Resting his forehead against Keith’s, Lance beams, eyes fluttering closed in contentment. “I love you so much too.”

Keith can’t help kissing Lance again before they walk down the makeshift aisle to join their guests. Lance’s arms wrap around Keith’s waist, and suddenly he finds himself being dipped. Lance radiates a large smile above him. Keith grabs onto his face to kiss him hard. Once more for good luck.

Applause, that had been endless before, strengths, and they part to finally acknowledge the happy expressions on their friends and family. 

Queen Allura intercepts Lance first with her congratulations. His family is not too far behind her either. During the immediate swarming, Keith gets drawn towards Shiro, who meets him halfway.

“I honestly never thought I’d see the day.” Shiro places a hand on his shoulder and his gaze is so intense that Keith finds himself ducking his head. He stares at his boots that are a little wet from the snow. “I am incredibly happy for you, Keith.”

Keith quickly catches onto the fact that Shiro forgets to use his title--for many, many years Keith has begged Shiro to drop it; they’re friends, brothers even, and no titles should stand between them. Maybe Shiro is finally allowing himself to break through those walls. “There were times I thought I’d never make it past twenty years old,” Keith responds, a quiet laugh following his words. “Much less fall in love and get married.”

There had never been anybody else but Lance. Sure, there were flings when he was younger and needed to blow off steam in a way that did not involve bloody knuckles from fights. But he’s never loved anybody, not like this. Keith knows Lance has. At seventeen, Lance fell in love with his girlfriend only to be repaid by being tied to a tree and having his horse stolen. Lance was drunk when he told that story, and Keith has never once forgotten it because of its sheer ridiculousness. 

Lance is someone who has an infinite amount of love to give; he is someone who gives his whole heart away. Keith is just lucky enough to have caught his attention.

“Stranger things have happened.” Shiro cracks a half smile before the light remark slides away into something more serious, more meaningful. “I know you sometimes struggle to believe it, but you deserve happiness.”

Keith’s cheeks warm. He does struggle to believe it, mostly because of all the shit he’s been put through--and all the shit he puts others through whether he means to or not. But it’s nice to hear. Nice to be reminded. “Thanks, Shiro.”

His eyes automatically search for Lance; he’s been mobbed by his family. It’s probably part of Keith’s unspoken husbandly duties to recuse Lance from his family, but it is so much more fun watching this mess unfold. His hand casually covers part of his mouth so no one can see his laughter. Lance tries to duck away from one of his older brothers who moves to ruffle his hair. But Keith misses the chance to see if he escapes, sensing another presence walking towards him after Shiro excuses himself from Keith’s side.

When he turns, Keith finds Lance’s mother, Elena, not two feet away from him. Automatically his posture straightens. She’s a short woman--Lance clearly got his height from his father--but Keith knows her to be formidable. 

Keith had only met Lance’s family once, about two years ago. It had been a stiff affair overall, with Keith being too shy around his lover’s family and them feeling the need to be formal in the presence of royalty. As the evening wore on, they all started to drop their barriers, only further helped along by Lance’s boisterous energy. Keith had found them warm and inviting. He hadn’t realized this is what a family could be like.

They sat around the fireplace and Lance’s siblings brought up embarrassing stories that caused Keith to actually laugh out loud. Lance had been a blushing mess beside him, desperately yelling at his family to stop. It’s one of Keith’s favorite memories, though today could easily top it.

Without a word, Lance’s mother reaches out to gently grab Keith’s hands. Hers are warm despite the cold weather, and this magic body heat is definitely something she passed onto Lance. Her touch is comforting, leaving Keith less on edge for whatever she’s about to tell him.

“I didn’t know what to think of you at first,” Elena tells him honestly and Keith swallows. Snowflakes have caught in her curly brown hair, creating a sort of crown. “Perhaps it was wrong of me to believe you were simply toying with his heart. But what else was I to think about a prince showing interest in someone not of his station?”

Ducking his head, Keith replies, “You aren’t the only one.”

Elena lets go of Keith’s hands to cradle his face and her brown eyes look straight into his soul. “But you proved me wrong. You have a kind heart, Your Highness, and I see the love you hold for my son in your eyes and in your mannerisms.”

“He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Keith tells her honestly. He’s a little surprised by his free admission of the fact, but seeing that proud smile on Elena’s face, it was worth it. “And please call me Keith. We’re family now.”

“Of course,  _ mijo _ .” As Elena draws him into an unexpected hug, Keith remains tense at first, eyes popping wide and arms stiff at his sides, but even he can’t withstand a McClain hug for very long. When he finally relaxes, wrapping his arms around her body, she whispers into his ear, “I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but please take good care of my son.”

“I won’t let anything happen to him,” Keith promises. Lance soon wanders over to join them and the subject is left to rest.

* * *

It happens a month later.

Lance doesn’t come back to bed one night. Knowing he suffers from nightmares sometimes, much like himself, Keith thinks little of the strange action at first. Lance will often wander the long halls when he wakes from a cold sweat and needs to be alone. Keith gets it; some nightmares can not be pushed away by the touch of a loved one.

However, when Keith wakes in the morning to discover that Lance’s space beside him remains empty, sheets almost stone cold as if he never returned at all, Keith bolts from the bed. Immediately he knows something is amiss. That something happened.

Lance  _ always  _ comes back to bed.

Lance never leaves his side for long.

Keith grabs his dagger and heads out. His suspicions are only confirmed when he sees more guards than usual outside his door. Alerted to him opening the door, one begins to step in front of him, blocking his exit.

“Please stay here, Your Majesty, where you’re safe.”

Keith stares at them. “If you have anything useful to say, spill it. If not,  _ get out of my way _ .” Without waiting for a response, he pushes past the knight. He’ll apologize to them later. 

Keith jogs through the halls, very aware of the guards trailing him, but at least they’re used to enough of his bullshit that they won’t try to force him back into his bedroom. Servants whisper as he passes. His heart cracks with every step he takes. When he spots a shattered vase and blood staining the wall in one of the main halls, he sprints.

As if expecting his presence, the doors to Shiro’s office have been left open for Keith to storm in.

“Where is he? Where’s Lance?” He slams his hands onto the table. The motion rattles the little figures spread out on the map.

Startled, Shiro’s head snaps up. His mouth puckers before he speaks. “We know he’s been kidnapped by Zarkon’s supporters,” Shiro calmly explains the more Keith’s anger grows. “There were three intruders. One was found dead, but the others must’ve overpowered Sir McClain.” Keith’s hands curl into a fist, wrinkling a portion of the map. “One of the servants saw them leaving,” Shiro adds as an afterthought. 

Mulling over the information, Keith walks over to take one of the swords from the rack on the wall. He spins it in his hand to test the balance and, once satisfied, proceeds to walk out the door without a word.

“Your Highness,  _ Keith _ , you can’t go in alone,” Shiro calls out hastily, reaching Keith’s side and grabbing hold of his sleeve. 

Spinning around, Keith bares his teeth. His gaze flashes. “Try to stop me. I dare you.”

When Shiro actually takes a step back, Keith realizes he needs to hold back his anger. It isn’t directed at Shiro after all. Everyone is just doing what they can. But something like this should have never happened in the first place. 

Holding up his hands in surrender, Shiro reluctantly yields. “Once we gather enough forces, your backup won’t be far behind.”

“Thank you,” Keith says and he means it.

“Keith!” Shiro quickly calls out again just as Keith is about to leave. Turning, Keith can’t help the scowl on his face, but he waits for Shiro to speak. “Try the caves first. That’s where our scout thinks the main base is.”

With a quick nod of gratitude, Keith leaves before anyone else can interrupt him.

Hastily tying his hair up into a bun, he springs onto his horse and flies out of the stables. Cold wind pricks his face. The sun is barely peeking over the horizon but if Keith can just push himself faster, he’ll be able to beat the sunrise. As he snaps the reins, his horse slides into a full gallop. Hooves pound against the ground; dirt kicks up into the air.

Gods forbid if Lance is already dead by the time he arrives... It's a thought Keith decides not to dwell on. He couldn’t even keep his promise to Lance’s mother for one month.

Keith didn’t give himself time to strap on armor, probably a mistake, but at least in this moment, the heavy protection can’t weigh him down. He flies across the hillside, heading to the cropping of caves deep within the forest. There hasn’t been enough time for dawn to reach this part of the forest, and Keith blinks his eyes repeatedly to focus in the dark.

Thankfully, torches mark his target ahead.

Since stealth has never been Keith’s forte, he forgoes silence. The two guards outside the mouth of the cave probably hear him coming long before they all can see each other. By the time Keith is in range, he has to duck under a few arrows whizzing over his head. They land with thunk into the tree behind him.

Leaping off his horse, he dispatches the two people outside. Their bodies flop to the ground like rag dolls.

He heads further into the cave system. It’s pandemonium in the tunnels, and he’ll fight his way through, no matter how many people are thrown at him.

The tip of a sword catches onto Keith’s arm and cuts deep. He almost bites his tongue off trying to keep a pained scream at bay. He doesn’t want to give them any satisfaction. In his brief pause, he almost gets clobbered in the face. He escapes with a graze against his unscarred cheek.

Keith isn’t sure how many he’s dealt with, but by the time he’s reached more than a hundred yards into the cave, his hands are covered in blood. And bodies lie by his feet.

Whirling around towards one of the people he left alive, Keith grabs them by the collar of their uniform and shoves them against the rock. Their head smashes against the wall. 

“Where is he?” Keith growls. He’s inches away from their face. His blade pricks the soft flesh of their throat.

The supporter spits in his face and says nothing. 

Keith knocks them out, slamming the hilt of his sword into their head. He’ll find Lance himself.

It’s a maze in these caves. Keith continues to fight his way through the tunnels. He hasn’t found himself in a true battle like this since he killed Zarkon, but everything comes back to him instantly. His sword is an extension of his arm. His feet slide across the floor in quick footwork to duck and evade. Over the years he hasn’t lost an ounce of his training. 

Breathing heavily, Keith wipes sweat from his brow. He places a hand against the wall for balance and to give himself a minute to gather himself. More people lie at his feet, some dead, others just unconscious. He isn’t sure why he left some alive,  _ especially  _ when they kidnapped Lance, but maybe he’s just gotten softer over the years. 

A moment’s rest finished, he picks himself back up, continuing forward. This section of the caves still extends far beyond him. He will find Lance. Even if that means fighting through everyone to get to him.

A shadow darts towards him from a small passage to his right, and he cuts down the person without hesitation. Their weapon clatters to the ground, as does their body. Keith keeps his gaze locked ahead.

At the end of the corridor, the torches on the wall illuminate a large figure running towards him. Keith, cautious now, creeps forward until someone comes barreling around the corner.

“Keith!” he hears them scream his name before he collides with a person his size, narrowly missing smashing his head into their face. Familiar hands rest on Keith’s arms. “What are you doing here?”

Keith’s eyes dart up to their face to find Lance staring at him.

“Trying to rescue you? What does it  _ look  _ like I’m doing?” Keith sputters in surprise. A small bit of anger is laced in his words but it’s not directed at Lance. His dark eyes still glow with the urgency to fight. 

When Lance’s grip tightens around his arms, Keith relaxes for a moment. Focusing on Lance, Keith watches his lips shift into a half-smile before he speaks. “I’m fine; I was taking care of them. I can escape all on my own, thank you very much.” 

Keith shakes his head, not really in the mood to be amused. “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt. You should have waited for me--”

“Hah, so you don’t like it when the shoe’s on the other foot, do you?” Lance pokes him in the chest many times. “Now you know how I feel  _ all  _ the time.”

Keith sucks in a sharp breath, mainly because the hand that still grips him rests dangerously close to the cut on his arm and the fact that it is way worse when someone you love is the target rather than yourself. He fully understands that now. “I hate you,” Keith mutters when Lance’s musing makes him laugh. This is ridiculous.

But Keith sobers up almost immediately. There’s a cut on Lance’s forehead that seems to have stopped bleeding not too long ago. Bruises pepper almost every inch of exposed skin. His clothes, which are just simple nightwear, are torn. Half his shirt hangs off of one shoulder; his pants are matted with a mix of blood and dirt. When Keith takes Lance’s hands in his, he has a full view of Lance’s chafed and bleeding wrists. The struggle to free himself evident. 

Keith should have realized what was happening before the kidnappers even left the castle. Yet, he was sleeping, at peace and unaware. How stupid of him.

“They used you to get to me,” Keith says, not quite with it as he continues to stare at Lance’s injuries. “I shouldn’t have brought you to Marmora. I was being selfish. I just didn’t think--”

“Hey,” Lance’s sharp voice cuts through the fog. A finger tilts Keith’s chin up. “There was no way we could have predicted this. It’s a small hiccup that we can work through.” 

“You’d be safer in Altea,” Keith says, halfheartedly. It’s a true statement but not one Keith is that selfless to truly entertain. At least they seem to be in agreement about that.

“I’m staying right here.” Lance leaves no room for argument.

Keith wouldn’t expect anything less.

Unexpectedly darting forward, Lance grabs Keith’s dagger from his belt and chucks it behind them. It flies so close past Keith’s head that his hair lifts in the breeze it creates. He doesn’t turn his head when he hears it land with a solid thunk into something--or someone. “You missed one,” Lance says after a moment, his eyes still locked onto the space behind Keith.

“I’m sorry I was too busy trying to save your life to double check,” Keith sarcastically says. “Anyone left behind  _ you _ ?”

“No, ‘cause  _ I  _ made sure to take care of  _ every _ one.” 

“Asshole.” He grins in relief.

Lance cracks a cheeky smile. “Gods, you’re so in love with me it’s almost painful.”

Keith would kiss him to shut him up if he wasn’t afraid it would split Lance’s busted lip open. He settles with wrapping Lance in a tight hug; he crushes his face into Lance’s shoulder and feels Lance doing the same.

“I was so worried,” he mumbles, words muffled by Lance’s body.

“I know. I’m safe; we’re safe.” His hands twist into Keith’s shirt. He admits, “I was scared too.”

Keith has always been a silent crier, so he’s not surprised when he feels Lance’s shirt become damp under his face. His fingers play with the hair at the nape of Lance’s neck. It helps ground him. “You’re safe,” Keith repeats after a moment’s pause. He repeats it several more times in his head for good luck.

Eventually they separate, more out of necessity rather than want. Without a doubt there are probably more of Zarkon’s supporters roaming these woods and cave systems; it’s time to move on. 

Making sure Lance stays in his sights, Keith walks forward only to couch down. He takes his dagger from the body, wiping the blood onto his pants. Shiro will have to deal with the unconscious ones as soon as he arrives. And then Keith will have to figure out what to do about all of  _ this.  _

“What’re we going to do now?” Keith asks, mostly at Lance specifically but if the universe wants to give an answer, that will be welcomed too.

“We come up with a plan,” Lance says without missing a beat. He gingerly steps over the people strewn about the short width of the tunnel. His nose scrunches when he almost trips over a wayward limb.

Looking up before he stands, Keith rolls his eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”

Having safely made it to Keith’s side, Lance links their hands together, helping Keith off the ground. Lance’s wedding ring presses against his skin. “With both our minds working on a solution, there’s nothing we can’t tackle.” His warm smile makes Keith feel light.

“I believe you,” Keith says, tightly holding onto Lance. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure they're both safe; nothing like this will ever happen again.

After one last look behind him, they walk out into the daylight together.

* * *

**Three Years Later**

* * *

“Do you think we’re ready to be parents?”

They stop in the middle of the long hallway, and Shiro remains a respectful distance behind them. Keith stares into Lance’s dark blue eyes, watching as he tilts his head in serious thought. A thin golden crown, much like Keith’s, rests in his hair. It catches some of the sunlight filtering through the window.

Lance eases into his response. “Well, the kingdom is pretty stable now. We haven’t seen an assassination attempt in over two years. My travels between Altea and here have started to ebb. So in that sense, I think we couldn’t find a more perfect opportunity.”

Begrudgingly, he and Lance had worked with Lotor over the past few years. The act of kidnapping Lance had further strengthened Marmoran citizens against the terrorist group, and the three of them were able to weed out Zarkon’s supporters once and for all. If any managed to escape, they’re so scattered across too many kingdoms that Keith doubts they’ll be able to regather in his lifetime.

Keith’s council has also been subtly hinting at him to obtain an heir to secure the line of succession ever since he defeated Zarkon. Their insistence has only grown stronger over the past two years. Not that Keith minds, he knows Lance always wanted a family. He was just never sure when the best time was to start looking to adopt. 

None of that is what’s bothering Keith, however. He wrings his hands while he speaks. “I don’t really know  _ how  _ to parent.”

Laughing, Lance shakes his head. He has his ‘you’re crazy’ expression plastered on his face. “And you think  _ I  _ do?”

“You helped raise your niece and nephew,” Keith argues. “I’d count that as  _ experience. _ ”

“Yeah, as the ‘fun’ uncle. I was the one who gave them sweets before dinner and encouraged them to climb trees,” Lance admits. “Parenting is an adventure we figure out together; no one has the rule book.”

“Oh gods, we’re doomed,” Keith mutters as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We both want a child, right?” Lance asks suddenly that it has Keith snapping his eyes on him. Keith nods with a growing smile, which Lance takes as an invitation to continue. He grabs hold of Keith’s hand, slowly interlocking their fingers. “We’ll both love them with all our hearts and always protect them and support them?”

Keith replies immediately. “Of course.”

“Then I think we’re ready.”

It takes a few more months before they step foot into the orphanage--Keith refuses to bypass any other hopeful parents looking to adopt just because he is their ruler.

While Lance talks with the woman in charge, Keith finds himself wandering outside to where most of the kids play. A few children run in circles, chasing each other in some game of tag. Others hang out in groups to chat or play an elaborate game with their toys. Keith’s eyes, however, catch onto a lone figure by a large oak tree. She wobbles on her feet as she swings her wooden sword at her imaginary attacker. 

Keith approaches the girl, who is no more than five or six, and is too quiet in his footsteps since her shoulders jump a little when he speaks. "If you straighten your stance, you'll have a stronger swing."

When she turns around to face him, her dark brown, extremely curly hair bounces on her shoulders. Her tan face is littered with freckles and those hazel eyes remain cautious and track his every move. 

"Really?" she eventually asks after a moment. Keith seems to have passed her preliminary test.

"You're using too much energy trying to keep yourself balanced." Making a move to step closer, Keith stops when he sees her narrow her eyes. He sends her a soft smile, holding up his hands. "May I?" 

After a moment, she nods her head. “Yes.”

Keith is gentle when he corrects her stance.  He  straightens out her shoulders and adjusts her grip on her sword. The girl welcomes all his corrections, eager to learn. Once her positioning is perfect, Keith finally introduces himself. He kneels down to match her height better so she can look into his eyes without having to strain her neck staring up at him. "My name's Keith; what's yours?"

"Adeline," the girl replies, rocking on her feet. “I’m gonna try again.”

With only those words as a warning, she swings her sword, twisting around so fast that she almost clips Keith in the shoulder. He hastily backs up, scooting a little on the ground.  "Whoa, easy with that swing." Tapping the tip of her sword, Keith manages to get her to lower it. An amused chuckle leaves his mouth. "You make a fierce warrior."

Adeline grins at his compliment. “I’ve been practicing.”

Their moment is interrupted when Keith hears a familiar laugh break through the air behind them. Adeline’s eyes lock onto the person near Keith and she automatically moves a little closer to Keith’s side--he can’t help the warmth that blooms in his chest. She already feels safe around him. He never thought he was good with kids. 

"Who's that?" she asks, a little shy. Keith finally turns his head.

"That's my husband," he answers immediately upon seeing that Lance has finally joined them. "Sometimes he forgets it's not his job to constantly watch me anymore."

"Can you blame me?" Lance asks as he places his hands on his hips. "It's not every day I witness the defeat of the great king." He lavishly bows to Adeline with an extra dramatic wave of his hand. "You have my gratitude, good sir, for defeating such a dreadful foe."

Emerging from behind Keith, she giggles at his antics. "I'm not a knight yet."

Lance crouches down to match her level. "Well I am and I have the power to make anyone I deem worthy a knight."

“I don’t believe you,” Adeline says, but she’s intrigued enough to fully move away from Keith’s side. Despite her disbelief, Lance’s happiness visibly grows.

They hang out with her for an hour. Most of the time is spent trying to convince her that Lance is indeed a knight and also playing hero vs villain. At one point her and Keith team up to take down Lance, who quickly surrenders upon being tackled by the both of them.

After a while, a bell tolls out and Adeline’s head snaps up in recognition. At first, she seems hesitant to leave, eyes darting between him and Lance, but with the second ring and an encouraging smile from Keith, she brushes dirt off her pants and shyly waves to both of them. "Thank you, Mr. Knight, Keef. Come play with me again!" They watch her run off as the orphanage's headmistress calls them in for dinner.

“She really likes you,” Lance comments, side eyeing Keith with a knowing grin. Standing, he offers a hand to Keith which he takes. "I have a feeling we already found the one."

"Me too," Keith says as he wraps an arm around Lance’s waist and holds him close. He feels impossibly happy in this moment. And he knows it’s going to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this au and honestly can't believe how long it is. Yet there's still things I regret not adding lmao (I feel like a failure for not having Lance use a bow and arrow at any point in this au, but I guess that will have to be saved for another fic).
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this final part! 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos:)

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re interested in a part 2, maybe something in Keith’s pov of Lance in Keith’s kingdom, maybe their wedding, maybe even an assassination attempt... let me know! 
> 
> Check out https://blacklivesmatter.carrd.co/ to find out how to support BLM!
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos (and subscribe if you don't want to miss a potential part 2) :)


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